Foundations
by ElleLupin
Summary: Subject 092 never left the laboratory. She had resigned to dying there. One day, she escapes, and sees the outside world for the first time. She decides it's time to live, to do everything in life she could possibly do, help everyone that she possibly can. Well, an important part of living is falling in love, isn't it? Steve/OC
1. Just Your Average Day in Hell

**Warning- this chapter contains graphic torture scenes. If you're sensitive to this, please do not read.**

"092, you're up." Said the guard, pulling my prison cell open. I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. My hands were shaking like crazy. I could feel the scars on my back more sharply than ever. I clasped my hands together, and flexed my back. It was easy to imagine my flesh ripping, tearing, blood streaming down my legs, as tears streamed down my face. I didn't have to imagine. It was going to be a reality in a matter of time.

The guard slammed his hand into the iron door. " _Now_ , goddamn it! 092, are you fucking stupid?"

I staggered to my feet. I was aching down to my bones. I had a few cracked ribs, I was sure of it.

"093?" I cried to my brother, my hand clasping my side, as though that would somehow hold me together. The guard stormed forward, his combat boots hitting the cold floor heavily. He grabbed me firmly by the back of my neck, as if I was a disobedient cat, and he was my mother.

I could hear him slam against the stone wall that separated us. "092!" he cried.

The sound of his voice made me want to cry. The pain in his voice chilled me down to my bones. I hadn't seen him in months, I had only heard his voice. And every time before I was dragged away, his voice both reassured me, and destroyed me.

I burst into tears, and despised myself for it. I was supposed to be strong. I was supposed to resist this. I was supposed to be used to this. And yet, here I was bawling like a baby. The ribs weren't helping my breathing, either.

The guard slammed the door shut, the sound of iron against stone echoing throughout the dimly lit, damp stone hallway. I could hear 093 sobbing, begging for the guard to let me go. His voice was horse, his voicebox destroyed because of me.

As we approached the end of the hallway, I saw the room I dreaded the most. I weakly protested against the guard, but I knew it was no use. I was weak. I slept in thirty minute shifts, at the most. I hadn't eaten well in… How long had I been here? About eighteen years. I was skinny, malnourished, emancipated. I hadn't felt sunlight on my skin in almost two decades, and my skin tone showed it. The heavy metal door's lock spun open, like a hatch on a submarine. The room was familiar to me, and I hated it.

The guard shoved me to the center of the room, where the floor was stained black from years and years of blood. Two chains with handcuffs on the end hung from the ceiling. On the floor, there were two more cuffs. They were to hold me in place, make sure I couldn't leave. What I wouldn't give to be a bird, to fly away.

I was locked into place by the guard, and I didn't even fight. I had given up fighting such a long time ago, when I realized no one was coming to save us. 093 and I were alone, and would be until one day, they tortured us a little too much. Maybe then I could be a bird. I could fly away.

The submarine lock on the door spun open, as the man I hated the most stepped into the room. Shivers traveled down my side, and my shoulders convulsed. The guard stepped back, back to the wall, his hands clasping the gun that stopped me from fighting back.

"092, it's so good to see you again," said Dr. Emery, snapping on rubber gloves. God forbid he would get blood on himself.

I didn't say anything back. I could have said it was nice to see him again, but that would have been lying. I also could have said that it _wasn't_ nice to see him, but he would have hurt me twice as badly if I was rude. For such a dark, evil man, he had an incredibly fragile ego.

He held his hands out, in an 'I surrender' kind of pose. He walked slowly towards me, until he was less than a foot away. I felt the overwhelming urge to lean forward and bite his nose off. "092, aren't you going to say anything back?"

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Emery," I said hoarsely through my teeth.

"You're lying to me." He said coldly, snapping his hand across my face. My skin stung, and I could feel a cut just beneath my eye from where his wedding band had hit me.

I coughed in shock, my ribs screaming in protest. "I'm sorry, Dr. Emery. I didn't mean to lie."

"Yes you did," he hissed, his gloved hand grabbing a fistful of my hair, and yanking it forwards, my scalp on fire. "You just lied to me again. Bad girl," He released my hair, shoving me backwards. My shoulders and hips ached as the chains tying me to the ceiling and floor swung dangerously. He turned his back to me, looking back at the table of torture weapons he had lined up, clean meticulously before every session. My eye had started to swell, restricting the view I had of the table. His back was blocking the rest of the table, but I saw how his shoulders moved as he picked up some kind of weapon.

"092, darling?"

"Yes?" I wheezed out, my ribs creaking.

He sighed, and turned around to face me. I could see now that he was carrying a crowbar. "You know that I'm doing this for you, of course. The only way you can get stronger, and more resistant to pain is to experience it, become numb to it."

"Of course," I whispered, leaning back into the chains as Dr. Emery came closer, fiddling with the crowbar like it was made of styrofoam.

"Good," he answered, before swinging back the crowbar like a baseball bat, and slamming it into my ribs.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, a bloodcurdling scream as I felt my ribs shatter. I could feel the sharp pieces inside, moving, like they had pierced my lung. I could barely breathe. Every inhale was agony, as I felt the bone fragments dig deeper and deeper.

My eyes were trained on the ground at my feet. I was pale and sweating, I knew that. My hair, greasy and pulled into the clumps by Dr. Emery's hand, fell into my face. My left eye had now completely swelled shut, the ring on his hand doing the damage he intended it to do. My breathing was shallow and haunted, coming out in rasps like a dying animal. I gave a guttural moan.

He turned his back to me, like I was disgusting. He acted like he had nothing to do with my disgusting appearance. He picked up a knife from the table, and I shuddered again, ready for him to drag the knife across my face. Instead, to my surprise, he walked past me, and began to take off my shirt, cutting it with the knife, and letting it fall to the ground. My breathing became quicker, even though it caused me so much pain. This was why I was suspended in the air, not tied to the chair. This way, Dr. Emery could have his way with his creations. With the _things_ he had implanted into my back.

The two long, identical scars that ran parallel to my spine went cold. He was pressing the knife to the top of one of them. Then, he dug it in, and slowly, agonizingly tore my skin open along the seams. He did the same to the other scar. There was the gentle _pit-pat_ as my blood dripped onto the stone floor. I whimpered.

"Let them free," he whispered, and although I couldn't see him, I could imagine the psychotic gleam in his eyes.

I cried in pain as I obeyed his orders.

Two feathery white wings erupted from my back, the blood on them flying off with such force, and splattering the walls of the torture chamber. They were nearly twenty feet long, and full of muscle. It must have added an extra thirty or fourty pounds each to my starving frame.

I stayed like that for a while, my wings stretched out, as Dr. Emery paced back and forth the twenty feet, his hands stroking the feathers, admiring his handiwork. I didn't know how long we did that, but eventually he spoke, breaking the silence. "Good. Put them away."

I groaned as my muscles flexed, pulling the wings back into the slits in my back. More blood gushed from the wounds, as the wings filled up the cavities that had formerly been filled with blood.

Dr. Emery went back to the torture table, and put the knife back down. I couldn't see what he was doing, but I heard the clang of metal on metal.

"092, do you remember what I told you about the super soldier serum?" he asked coldly, his back still towards me.

Even though it was ridiculous and useless, because I knew Dr. Emery couldn't see me, I still nodded. "It's supposed to make you strong, fast, endure more."

"Yes, good girl. We tried it on you five years back, do you remember that? It was after we had perfected the wings, of course. And it failed. It didn't make you stronger or faster. It just made you heal."

I swallowed heavily. I hated that. I hated that I could heal quickly, that I could regenerate nearly ten times faster than the regular human. That just meant my torture sessions were that much closer together. In a way, my brother, 093, was lucky. His sessions were about once every fourteen days. Mine were twice a week.

"Well, we have a new serum. It might not be perfect, but that's why you're here. You're our test subject. If it works, we'll try it on our real soldiers." He turned around, holding a needle full of some kind of clear liquid. He tapped it twice, letting all of the air bubbles out. Then he walked back over to me, his heavy boots now muffled on the stone floor, as the blood that coated it muffled the noise. He unlocked one of the handcuffs, letting my left arm down.

What I wouldn't have given to just pull my arms back and punch him. It wouldn't have even hurt him, though. I had been starving in a cell for 18 years, living off of crackers and stale cheese. Water was a delicacy for me. My punch would have felt like a flea to him. So instead, I let him puncture me.

The needle went into my forearm, and I watched as he depressed all of the serum into my blood stream. At first it didn't hurt very much. And then, my forearm felt like it was on fire. I started gasping like a fish out of water, not even registering the pain enough to scream.

My forearm began to swell, the skin cracking, and pus oozing. The swelling slowly began to spread down to my hand, and up to my bicep.

"Shame," said Dr. Emery. "It looks like it doesn't work." He then reached behind him on the torture table, and pulled back a machete. I was crying now, my breathing uneven and painful as my ribs moved further into my chest. "You know, I've always wondered how far you regenerative capabilities would go. Let's see if you can grow back a limb." He then pulled back the machete, and sliced cleanly through my shoulder.

My arm hit the floor with a dull splash, the blood making waves. In some sick, twisted way, it was a relief. I didn't have the fire in my bloodstream. Instead, I didn't have a hand.

I just wanted to go back to my cell. It was a cold, damp cell, where my risk for infection increased tenfold, but at least there I was safe. I could talk to 093. I could rest. I wasn't safe there, but it was the closest to safe that I'd ever known.

"We're not done yet, 092." Said Dr. Emery, putting the machete back down on the table. "Just one more thing before we're finished. All we've done so far to you is physical torture. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy it, but one of my superiors, Strucker, informed me that if you truly want to work for Hydra, be a soldier, you need to work on your emotions. Right now, you have very little control over them. I was informed that emotional torture would help with that."

"Johnson," Dr. Emery barked at the guard, who snapped to attention. "Bring him in."

As the guard left, Dr. Emery got himself busy. He wheeled away the torture table, and brought in front of me a wooden chair. It was like he was setting the stage. When Johnson returned, I saw who he had brought back with him. It wasn't some torture expert. It was my brother.

"093!" I cried, but he didn't even look at me. It was the first time I had seen him in months.

My brother was tied to the chair that Dr. Emery had brought forward. His eyes were on the ground the whole time.

"Well now, 092, let's see what you're made of." The Doctor said. I felt sick to my stomach.

I watched Dr. Emery pull out a gun and shoot my brother. I don't remember if I screamed or not. I watched his brains splatter the wall, and I went numb. The guard, Johnson, released me from the handcuffs, dressed me, and took me back to my cell.

I sat on my bed and stared at the wall, my remaining hand caressing the stump where my arm used to be. The skin had already healed over the stump. Some deep part of me knew my arm wasn't going to grow back.

"092?" said the voice I was so familiar with, on the other side of the wall.

My heart stopped. "093!" I cried, slamming myself against the wall. "You're alive!"

"Of course I am," He said, thoroughly confused. "How was your session?"'

"They killed you right in front of me," I said at a voice barely more than a whisper. I watched you die. It must have been one of Dr. Emery's tricks. But I swear, I watched you get shot."

093 was quiet for a while. I stayed clinging to the wall, listening to him breathe. I was just relieved to know he was alive. Then he said the one sentence I had heard all my life. "We need to get out of here." He murmured.

I sighed, the pain in my chest already slightly better as my regenerative capabilities took over. "093, we've been here something like eighteen years. How many times have we tried?"

"No," he said angrily. "This time, I mean it."

 **Thanks so much for reading. This is my second story, and I never really finished the first because of a lack of motivation. I know how stupid and cliche this sounds, but reviews really do make me feel more motivated to write. Till next time!**

 **-ElleLupin**


	2. Gotta Blast (the escape plan)

**Okay in all honestly, I was going to post this later, but in all honesty, YOU GUYS GAVE ME FOUR REVIEWS so fuck it, lol. Honesty though, thanks so much! Here's the second chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and all of the silent support from the favorites and follows. Enjoy!**

I had tried to go to sleep, I really had. It was hard, though. My hand kept stroking my stump of an arm, as though that would will it to grow back. In my mind, I kept replaying 093 getting his brains blown out. I didn't want to, but every time I closed my eyes, that was what I saw.

After a while, the exhaustion of the day caught up to me. The morning light was coming through my cell bars. I closed my eyes, and began to go to sleep when-

 ** _BAM!_**

My cell door slammed open, and I whipped around, expecting to see the guard, ready to drag me off to the torture cell. Instead, my brother stood there. The door wasn't swung open. It was blasted open. And there, standing in the smoking smithereens was my brother.

"093?" I asked groggily.

"Come on, 092," he barked. "We're getting out of here."

I scrambled to my feet, my mouth agape in awe. My hand cradled my stump, and his eyes were drawn to it. Oh yeah. I hadn't told him about that. He opened his mouth to ask me what the hell had happened, but I beat him to it. "I'll explain later. If we're really getting out, we need to do it now, before Hydra calls in reinforcements. How did you get out of your cell, and open mine?"

He held up his hands, and my heart dropped to my stomach. Carved into his hands were sigils. There had to be at least ten. They were bloody and savage, and looked like they had been imprinted into his skin by a dull knife.

Here's the thing- while I was undergoing surgery, being given wings, my brother was being experimented on more mentally. He had sigils burned into his brain, so that he could never forget them. He was taught the ancient Asguardian art of alchemy. From what he had told me, it would take masters on Asguard centuries to memorize the sigils. Hydra cut to the chase, and used torture to get him to memorize them.

I staggered to my feet, my ribs protesting. I did it anyway. "Let's go. Do you know the way out?"

"No," he admitted, "But how hard can it be?"

As it turns out, very hard. We ran the corridors for what seemed like hours. Every time we heard a voice, we ducked behind whatever was convenient- a wall, a surgical tray, in one case, I ducked behind 093. Let's face it, my wings were of no use compared to his alchemy.

Just then, and alarm started blaring. I flinched heavily.

 _"Warning- subjects escape. Subjects escaped."_ An overhead voice boomed. Great. They had figured out that we had escaped.

"093!" I cried, pointing towards the end of a long hallway. There, there was an iron door, with a window. Streaming through the window was something that I had only seen through the miniscule skylight in my cell. Sunlight.

I sprinted for the door, 093 bringing up the rear. If we could just get outside, we would be free. I didn't know if I could fly. I had never tried. I had the wings, and they were supposedly fully functional, but Hydra never let me outside to test them. I was too much of an escape risk. Little did they know, I never would have escaped without my brother.

I opened the door at a full sprint, my hand leaving my stump just long enough to twist the handle.

I froze, 093 bumping into me from behind. We were both dead silent. There was the sky… So big and blue, it seemed like it stretched on forever. The trees were incredible. I could see the individual leaves. I felt ground beneath my bare feet. I dug my toes into the ground, feeling in individual clusters of dirt. Birds were chirping, and I could hear the distant sound of some kind of water source. I focused on the birds, making beautiful music with their voices. I watched as one took flight. In the books I'd read about bird, most never needed to be taught how to fly. They just were pushed out of the nest one day, and they either hit the ground, or didn't.

"093, come on," I said firmly. "I'm flying us out of here."

My brother glanced over his shoulder at the facility, the alarms blaring. "Can you fly?"

I paused, suddenly so unsure. "No, actually. That was a bad idea. Let's run."

My brother and I took off, sprinting through the woods at full force. My ribs protested, but at this point, I wasn't going to let my ribs hold me back from the first shot at freedom I'd had in 18 years. Since I didn't have any shoes, the delicate skin on my feet was torn to shreds within minutes, but I blocked out the pain. I could tell that 093 was going through the same amount of pain, but he and I were both too stubborn to do something about it.

After a while, I was too winded to keep running. I hated being weak enough to stop, but I had never run in my life, and it was kind of taking its toll on me. Once the alarms were out of earshot, I stopped running, and leaned over, putting my hands on my knees. 093 looked relieved that I had stopped, and skidded to a halt, breathing almost as heavily as I was.

I paced the clearing for a while, not wanting my adrenaline to wear off. 093 looked more exhausted than I was. My hand caressed my stump of a left shoulder, some part of me still not believing that I was an amputee.

My brother noticed. "What happened to your arm?" he asked, his voice rough and scratchy.

"Dr. Emery was trying out a new super soldier serum. Remember when he tried them on us last year?"

He nodded, "Gave you the healing, gave me stronger alchemy powers," he recalled.

"Yeah. Well, they had a new formula, and he said he would test it on me, because I'm _just a rough draft._ " I said bitterly. "I'll bet that's why there's no helicopters trying to find us. We're not important enough. I know it's stupid to complain that we're not being hunted by Hydra, but I just don't want 18 years of torture to have gone by, and we're still nothing to them."

"I know, 092, but you got off topic. What happened to your arm?"

I shook my head, "Oh, sorry. Dr. Emery had a new formula, thought it would work. He injected it into my left forearm. It didn't hurt at first, but then it was insane. I mean, 093, after so many years of pain, you think I'd be used to it, but I wasn't. It was like my blood had turned to acid. And then my arm started to swell up where he injected it. The skin started cracking, and pus starting flowing, and all that Dr. Emery did was look at it, say what a disappointment it was, and chop off my arm."

My eyes were staring at the ground. I couldn't look my brother in the eyes without remembering what had come after the amputation.

He broke the silence. "I wish I could turn Dr. Emery's blood to acid," he wished darkly.

I stood up straight, looking up at the sky. Some paranoid part of me expected a Hydra plane to come out of nowhere, and take us back to the lab. I knew we weren't important enough, but some feral part of me wanted to be on the run. "We should keep going. Find shelter. If we keep going this way, we're bound to find a town of some kind. Hydra needs to get their supplies from somewhere, right?"

"By plane?" 093 said, crushing my dreams.

"Okay, whatever," I said, not wanting to admit that I was wrong. "Let's go."

I starting jogging away. The adrenaline had faded, and I could feel the pain in my feet more acutely now. I knew 093 had to be feeling it too, but he was too stubborn for our own good. Then again, so was I. I had been thirsty for the past mile, and I knew 093 could transmute water, but I wasn't going to ask him to carve any more sigils into his hands. We jogged for a good amount of time. I couldn't help but be enamored by the trees, the sun, and the birds. It was incredible. I knew I was missing a lot by being stuck in my cell, but I didn't know how much. _This_ was living- running, feeling the wind in your face, surrounded by nature, nothing but the sound of your heartbeat, breathing, and the songs of birds.

"092?" asked my brother. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

I slowed down from running, and squinted into the distance. Through the trees, I could see wood. No, not bark, or branches. Real, processed wood.

093 and I both cautiously pivoted around the strange building, before we came and saw the front. It was an old, cabin-style building, with a golden symbol on top.

"It's a church." Announced 093.

"A what?"

"A church. It's where some people go to pray. When they stuffed my brain with sigils, I got some other things too. On top, that's a cross. It's a symbol of their religion." He explained, and I felt guilt in my stomach. All this time, I never gave him credit for how much he knew. He wasn't dumb. He knew more about the outside world than I did.

I pointed to the front of the church, "Look at the windows,"

"There's people. Are those wings?"

I nodded, "Just like me. Let's go inside."

093 grabbed my right bicep, pulling me back. He looked at me anxiously, his blue eyes wide. "092, we don't know what's in there. It could be unsafe."

I pointed back at the window, "Look! They're used to people like me."

"People like you? 092, we've been trapped in a laboratory and experimented on for eighteen years. I don't think they've met many people like us." 093 snapped back at me.

I tore my arm free of his grip, and looked him angrily in the eyes, "I'm going in. You can choose to come with me or not."

Turns out, he did, but very reluctantly. We stepped into the church, full of dust particles in the air. In the front, there was a man on his knees, facing a cross. He turned around, a welcoming expression on his face, and he froze when he saw us. "Oh my goodness, are you okay?"

I realized what 093 and I must have looked like. We were bloody, beaten, and had twigs and leaves in our hair. This was the only way I had known us to look like, but someone else seeing us for the first time must have been shocked.

093 jumped in, lying smoothly, "We've been lost in the woods for a very long time. My sister here fell and hurt her head. She lost most of her memories. We came by your church, and she didn't know who the people were in the windows. I tried explaining, but I'm not very good at it. Do you think you could?"

The man seemed happy to, wanting to make us feel more welcome. He was clearly ashamed of his initial reaction. "Of course. In the windows, those are angels. They're the guardians of the Lord. They protect and serve Him, and watch over us." He paused for a moment, "Would you like me to call the police, or an ambulance? She probably has a concussion."

"Oh, no, no, no." burst in 093 hastily. "I'm actually a doctor myself. If anything, she just needs rest, so we'd like to get home. She was just very insistent." He nudged me, asking me to play the part.

I nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes. It's very fascinating. The angels look very badass."

"I suppose," said the man slowly.

"Which one is the most badass?" I said, trying to seem a bit off, mentally. I'd had many concussions over the years, all I had to do was play stupid, and ask random questions. Maybe hallucinate a little.

The man stopped to think. "If I had to choose, I would say Azrael, the angel of death. Of course, every priest has their own opinion, if you could call it that."

"Azrael," interrupted 093 with a gleam in his eyes, "I like that. Did Azrael have a sibling, or a close friend?"

"Well, all of the angels are siblings. They're children of the Lord. However, Azrael was particularly close with one angel, Nefta. She was his closest friend, if I'm remembering correctly." The priest answered. "I'm sorry, I hate to be a bother, but I won't call the police if you don't want me to. I would like to offer you our church, though. We have showers downstairs for the clergy, which you are more than welcome to. We're doing a clothing drive for less-fortunate families, and you can help yourselves to any of the clothes. There's bedrooms downstairs, as well. You can stay for as long as you'd like, or at least until your friend feels better," he said, glancing at me worriedly.

093 answered for us, "Thank you. We'll take you up on your offer. We'll be out of your hair in no time."

The priest agreed, and offered us a tour, but we declined. 093 and I needed to talk.

We headed out of earshot, downstairs to where the showers were. I had never had one, but 093 knew enough from his weird knowledge that Hydra gave him. He turned one on, so that the sound of the water covered up our conversation.

"I trust him." I said, my voice nearly the same volume as the water. "He's kind, and aren't religious people supposed to be kind?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I trust him. I was going to say something about the names he told us. We can't go out into the world with nothing to our name but 092 and 093. That's why I was asking so much about the names. I want to be called Azrael. It's badass, you know? And you, you can be called Nefta. You already have angel wings, right? So why not be called an angel, right?"

I shrugged. "I guess. But is that really the priority-"

"You're right, we need to split." 093- no, Azrael, said firmly.

"Okay, so, what? We clean up, get new clothes, and head out early morning?" I asked.

Azrael looked confused, "No, Nefta," he tried out the new name. " _We_ need to split. As in, split up. Every second we stay together, Hydra gets closer. If we're caught together, we're back where we started. If we separate, we have nothing holding us back."

I frowned, my hand tracing my stump shoulder self-conciously. "Oh. Okay."

"So, what? Leave in the morning? I'll get out before you do. Here, take a shower first." Azrael left the shower door open, and disappeared out the door.

We were quiet for the rest of the night. I didn't want him to leave. He clearly felt we needed too. My brother isn't stupid. He knew I didn't want him to leave, but he also knew that we needed to. He was smarter than me, and I trusted him to do the right thing.

And so, I showered for the first time, changed into clean clothes (and took a couple of extra changes of clean clothes for the road). I didn't want to fall asleep, but I was on a bed for the first time, and I was so exhausted from all the running, I fell asleep almost immediately. For the first time in my life, I didn't sleep in thirty minute shifts. I wasn't afraid of being woken up in the middle of the night to be taken to the torture chamber.

And when I woke up, Azrael was gone.

 **Thanks so much! Now we have our main character's names. I know the names are weird, but let's face it, so are they. I want to know what you guys think of 093/Azrael. He's kind of like my dysfunctional baby. Nefta is more of my awkward crybaby. Please review, it makes me so much more motivated to write. ILY!**

 **-ElleLupin**


	3. We're Soarin', Flyin'

**Okay honestly this is so weird, I've written three chapters in like two days. I mean, I know it's spring break for me, but this is outrageous. I've even finished the fourth chapter, I just have to edit. Anyway, I didn't get as many reviews on the last one as I did on the first one, but hey, maybe you guys will like this one more. Enjoy! (hopefully)**

The next six months, I adjusted to life without my brother. I stayed at the church a little while longer. My ribs were taking a bigger toll on me than I had originally thought. The priest at the church was very kind, very welcoming. He let me stay as long as I wanted, no questions asked. He wasn't stupid, and he seemed to pick up on the fact that our story was off. I mean, what guy, claiming he's a doctor, would leave his "concussed" sister alone in the middle of nowhere. He pried a little bit, and I just told him that I didn't want to go back home to my abusive family. I mean, I wasn't lying. Dr. Emery considered himself to be my father, and there was no way in hell that I was going back to him. That seemed to be the right story, because the priest, who insisted I call him Father Tom, never asked me my name. He allowed me to stay in the church for as long as I needed, so long as I helped cook, attended church events, and worshipped with him every Sunday. It was a nice exchange.

The first Sunday after I was there, I accidentally slept through the service. I was pretty proud, to be honest. I had never slept through anything. However, Father Tom told the parish that a young woman had come to him for help. He asked the parish for any cash donations to help me get up off of my feet. And boy, did they respond. In the one service, they raised over two thousand dollars for me. It was nearly twenty bucks a person. I didn't realize such generosity existed in people.

I stayed with Father Tom for just over a month. He taught me how to be self-sustaining. I learned how to cook, how to clean, how to work showers. He taught me a lot about history, and although he struggled a bit with pop culture, he taught me how to use electronics, too. With the money the parish raised for me, I actually went into town, and changed everything up. The church was on the edge of a tiny little town. It was an episcopal church, named after some Francis guy who was close to nature, so that's why the church was the closest building to the endless miles of forest. I went into town, and got a haircut, bought new clothes. It was a cute town, with about one of everything- one barber shop, one grocery store, one cafe, and my favorite building, one church.

Dr. Emery had been the only one to cut my hair before I got it professionally done. Every time my hair grew out to the point where it went past my shoulder blades, and disguised Dr. Emery's work, he would shave my head. Luckily, Azrael and I escaped before he had the opportunity to shave it again. It gave the hairstylist something to work with. I got my hair cut to fall slightly above my shoulders. I had naturally wavy hair, something I had never noticed before I had washed the years of dirt and grime out of my hair. I also got some blunt bangs, to fall across my brow line. When the hairstylist finished, she told me I looked like Zooey Deschanel. She was then offended when I asked who that was. I also went out to the local thrift shop, and bought a whole bunch of cheap clothes, enough to make me have a reasonable wardrobe. Father Tom was proud of my simple life.

What Father Tom didn't know was where I went every afternoon at roughly 3:00. I disappeared into the woods, in nothing but a raggedy old t-shirt and torn-up pants. I would walk until I knew Father Tom wouldn't be able to follow with his bad hip. And I would fly.

It was awful at first. Fully functional wings my ass, Hydra. It was painful, and I could barely get more than a foot off of the ground before the pain in my shoulder blades was too much. The muscles of my wings were graphed onto the muscles in my back. But, just like with any other muscle, it took practice. I had never used the muscles before, but by the time a month went by, I was able to stay in the air for thirty minutes at a time, comfortably. That was good enough for me. Thirty minutes was long enough to get far way.

After a month, I started packing. I knew where I wanted to go. Father Tom had helped teach me how to use the internet. I did some research on Hydra. I didn't come up with much, as they were mostly and underground agency, but I did discover that they clashed with one group called the Avengers. And I wanted to be where Hydra wasn't welcome. The Avengers were stationed in New York, so I wanted to be in New York. I didn't want to join them. You'd have to be fucking crazy to fight Hydra. I just wanted their protection. And yeah, that much research took me all month. You try doing research when you're illiterate.

I set out on a Sunday afternoon. I felt like I could go anywhere. I wasn't a malnourished prisoner anymore. Father Tom had helped me put some meat on my bones, and I had the ability to fly away from Hydra now. I was finally _truly_ like a bird. I was free.

"Wait!" called a voice behind me, as I whirled around to see Father Tom. I could see that his hip was hurting him, so I met him halfway.

I said guiltily, "Father Tom, I already said my goodbyes. I know this is hard on both of us, but we just have to rip off the bandaid." He had taught me that expression himself.

He pulled a small envelope out of a pocket in his overcoat, and handed it to me. His paper-thin hands were shaking slightly. "This morning, I asked the clergy for more donations. They've all become awfully fond of you, and are sad to see you go. They banded together as a church, and raised you enough money to make it, wherever you're going."

"Oh, Father Tom," I said, feeling a warmness in my heart like I'd never felt before. "You know you didn't have to do this."

"I know. But you're one of us now. I don't know where you're going. I hope you're not going back to that abusive family of yours. I think you're smarter than that. But, if you do end up in some trouble, know that you'll always have a bed to sleep in, and a kitchen to eat in here."

A lump grew in my throat as I fought the urge to cry. "Thank you, Father Tom."

He smiled, the kind of heart-warming old man smile, where their eyes get all crinkly.  
"No, thank you. You've taught me how to be young again. Now, go on, you're going to miss your bus. May God be with you."

I waved goodbye one last time, and headed to the Greyhound bus station. It took an hour to get out of the isolation of the small town, and to Jackson, Wyoming. Yeah, I was in prison in Wyoming. Who would have thought? From Jackson, it was a two day bus trip. I stuck to myself, and slept most of the time. I watched the highway the other time I wasn't sleeping. Most people would get sick of seeing trees blur by for two days, but when you've been trapped inside for 18 years, any tree is a magical sight. When I got off the bus in New York, the first thing I was interested in was finding a place to live. I found a cheap apartment over in the Lower East side. The Avengers Tower, where, obviously, the Avengers lived, was more up north, but I could only afford the Lower East side.

I got a job there, too. It was at a creepy little deli, that I'm pretty sure the FDA never approved. They never asked me for my GED, or my social security number, and only paid me in cash. So, yeah, it was pretty sketchy. I was relieved that they never asked me for my GED, because I was completely illiterate. I didn't know how to read, or write. It sucked, but it didn't suck as much as living across from a library. _That_ was just a slap in the face. I was too embarrassed to go in, and ask somebody to teach me how to read. So, I taught myself. I was awful at it, though.

Five months went by pretty quickly. In the afternoon, when the deli closed, I would go out to Central Park, to one of the really isolated and creepy parts, and let my wings out. I was constantly paranoid that somebody would come and see me, but I guess I chose my spot well. It was heavily forested, and it even spooked me out a little bit. I guess most people stuck to the touristy parts.

One day, I was in my crappy little apartment, waiting for the pizza I ordered to show up. I was still trying to catch up with modern day times. I guess maybe I could have watched the news, but they relied too heavily on all that scrolling text on the bottom, and since I couldn't read it, I didn't bother. Instead I caught up on pop culture.

I had done my research (and man, was it hard. Research is fucking difficult when you don't know how to spell what you're researching), and I came up with a list of top ten TV shows I needed to watch, and top ten movies as well.

I was almost done with the TV shows. I had binge-watched my way through Friends, Breaking Bad, The X-Files, Seinfeld, Mad Men, M*A*S*H, and Lost. I was still working on Game of Thrones, Saturday Night Live, and The Simpsons. As for movies, I had watched almost all of them. The Godfather, the Wizard of Oz, Citizen Kane, The Shawshank Redemption, Pulp Fiction, E.T., Schindler's List, Back to the Future, and Indiana Jones. I was still working on the Star Wars series, because the writing at the beginning had frustrated me to no end.

Anyway, I was in the middle of a Simpson's episode, when I decided to order a pizza. I would probably get food poisoning from some crappy Lower East side pizza parlor, but I didn't care anymore. Now _that's_ authentic New York living. So, I called them up on the phone, ordered my pizza, and waited.

Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I opened the door, surprised to see a woman there without a pizza delivery outfit on. She was wearing an all black uniform, her hair was pinned back, and she had a surprisingly serious expression on her face.

"Hey! That was fast," I greeted her. "How much is it for the pizza?"

She seemed confused, but shifted her face back to something stone-like. "My name is Agent Hill. Subject 092, I've come to-"

Oh _shit._ She was Hydra.

"HYDRA!" I screamed bloody murder, slamming the door and bolting it her face.

Through the door, I heard her mutter, "Wilson, she's heading to you."

Man, fuck Wilson. I wasn't heading to Wilson. I quickly ripped off my jacket, and threw it across the room. I was left there in nothing but a white wife-beater, and black leggings. No shoes or anything. Well, good thing I had a semi-formed escape plan.

I quickly opened the window, and backed up a couple of feet. My heart was pounding in my throat, and my nails were digging into my hands. I had never opened up my wings mid-air before. Well, there's a first time for everything.

Just as Agent Hill kicked down my door, I took a running leap, and jumped out of the window. The moment I felt the cold air on my face, I released my wings. They tore through my skin with the same pain as always. The rupture of flesh never feels good. Blood was flung from my wings in both directions. For a second I was still falling. _Oh my God,_ I thought. _This is where it ends. I'm going splat._

And then, my wings caught the air, and I was tugged upwards rather harshly, like a parachute.

And then I was flying over New York. My wings were still slightly bloodstained, and it hurt like a motherfucker, but _I was flying over New York._ Yeah, I was probably being spotted by thousands of people, but I couldn't have given any shits, as long as I was getting away from Hydra.

I soared high above the buildings, and the wind ruffling my hair, my feathers working in absolute unity. As I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that a helicopter wasn't following me (even though I was sure I would have heard it, I was paranoid anyway), I noticed I was being trailed. No, it wasn't by a helicopter, or a jet. I was being followed by a guy. And the worst part was, he had wings, too. _Holy shit, this must be one of the Hydra soldiers that Dr. Emery told me about. He's one of the guys who wasn't a rough draft._

He was faster than I was. As he kept getting closer and closer, I could see that he wasn't exactly like me. He didn't have the soft, feathery wings. He had metal wings, which seemed to be attached to a suit of some kind. _Okay, so he has metal wings, and he's faster than me,_ I reasoned. _But his wings aren't physically attached to him. So, I have better control, right?_

Well, I hoped. As I was approaching a large, rectangular building in the financial district of New York, I took a sharp right turn, and circled the building. My wings protested at the sharp movement, but I ignored it. I had gone completely around, and now I was behind the Hydra soldier.

He whirled around, and I noticed he was wearing goggles, which covered his eyes. I didn't trust him if I couldn't see his eyes. "Subject 092, we're not here to hurt you-" he yelled.

"Oh, no, you're just here to capture me." I argued back, rising slightly. It was hard for me to stay stationary in flight.

The Hydra agent opened his mouth to speak, but the radio on his chest spoke for him. "Wilson, sedate her. She's making too much of a scene." I recognized the voice of Agent Hill.

I took off again, diving back down towards the street. I heard a couple of cars honking, and one pedestrian yell, "Fuck you, Iron Man!" Apparently they associated anyone flying with Iron Man. Great, thanks. I was now an egotistical superhero.

I took a sharp turn back upwards, and dove sideways into an alleyway. My wing tips grazed the tips of the buildings, and clipped one of the corners of the alley as I took a sharp turn. It hurt, but it would hurt less than if I went back into the torture chamber. I traversed the alleyways of New York, occasionally flying up and over buildings when the alleyway dead-ended, and dove back down when I was over.

I reached another dead end, and as I quickly flew up to the top of the building. My eyes were trained on the bricks, which whirled by as I flew vertically. I crested the building, and came face to face with the Hydra agent, Wilson. I hastily pumped my wings backwards, but he grabbed me by the arm. I screamed loudly.

"Please! Please don't take me back!" I wriggled my arm, trying to get loose of his iron grip. What I wouldn't give for another arm, or a knife or something. I kicked my legs at him, but he dodged me like I was the world's slowest fighter. It's like he was a cheetah, and I was a sloth, or a tortoise or something.

Even though I couldn't see his eyes, his eyebrows and mouth gestured that he was sympathetic. "Look, 092, we're not going to hurt you."

Yeah, right. I'd believe him when it happened. I tried to wriggle my arm free even more, but it wasn't working. His fingers weren't budging.

With his other free hand (damn it, he had two), he pulled out something that looked a bit like an EpiPen. "I'm sorry," he said, "But trust me, okay?"

It was hard to trust him when he jabbed the needle in my neck. Everything went black immediately.

 **So yeah she's met Falcon. She'll meet the rest of the Avengers next chapter. Not by name, necessarily, but you'll probably be able to recognize them. Nefta can't. I probably won't upload the fourth chapter until I'm finished with the fifth, because I like to be a chapter ahead, but if I have as much free time tomorrow as I did with the rest of my spring break, it'll probably be up by noon PST tomorrow. Sorry for the long author's note. Don't forget to review, it motivates me. ILY, bye!**

 **Also I just changed the names of all of the chapters because I'm the world's biggest loser. And yeah, one's a High School Musical reference (aka this one). Okay bye for real this time.**

 **-ElleLupin**


	4. Mission Impossible (kind of)

**Ayy, like I said, up by noon PST. It's 11:15ish for me, so I actually wasn't lying. Also, I just finished chapter five, and** ** _holy shit_** **guys it's so good. I didn't like where it was going about halfway through, so I was going on tumblr, and I kept seeing people talking about the new Wonder Woman theme from the new movie Batman vs. Superman, so I was like "alright, I'll see what this is about" and I was so motivated, I threw out my chapter plan and rewrote it. I'm actually in love. And yeah, this chapter is okay too, I guess, but I really like the next chapter. Sorry for the long author's note. Enjoy!**

When I woke up, there were loud chops interrupting the air. My eyes flung open, and I realized I was on a helicopter. Sitting across from me was the Wilson guy, and Agent Hill. I could hear two pilots in the front chatting. I tried to stand up, but my hand was handcuffed to a metal bar on the floor. When I moved, I felt lukewarm blood on the back of my shirt, from the slits in my back that my wings came from. I guess when I had been tranquilized, they had retracted. Thanks to my regeneration powers, the slits had healed over mostly, and it was just raw scar tissue again.

"Please don't put up a fight," asked Wilson. He had taken off his goggles, and now that I could see his eyes, he was somewhat less frightening. "We're already late enough as it is."

I still struggled, though. If I had to tear off my hand from the handcuff, and be a double amputee, I would do it, if it meant I could get away from Hydra. I was _not_ going back to the laboratory. I mean, technically I was, but I would do everything in my power to stop it.

Agent Hill cleared her throat. "Subject 092, I think there's been a huge misunderstanding. We're not Hydra."

"My name is Nefta," I started with. "Don't call me 092. That's not something I want to remember. And if you're not Hydra, who are you?"

Agent Hill pointed to a large symbol on the wall of the helicopter. There was an eagle or a bird of some sort, with letters wrapped around. I'm sure they spelled out something, but I wasn't sure what.

"I can't read." I deadpanned.

Agent Hill looked embarrassed for a second, like a human, before she returned to her stone-cold robotic expression. "It says the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division. SHIELD for short. We're the people working against Hydra."

I frowned. "I only did a little bit of research, but I thought the Avengers were the ones fighting Hydra."

"We are," said Wilson. "My name's Sam Wilson, also known as the Falcon. Maybe you've heard of me?" he registered my clueless expression, and looked a bit crestfallen. "I promise I'm a member of the Avengers. And yeah, we're fighting against Hydra, but we're a team built by SHIELD."

I nodded slowly, drawing a map in my head. I had connected all of the dots but one. "Okay, but why did you show up at my house in the middle of the night?"

"We need your help with a mission," Agent Hill responded. "I'd like to go into details, but I can't until I'm sure we're in a secure location."

"And how long will that be?"

She checked the watch on her wrist. "Three minutes at the most."

"Then can you undo my handcuffs?" I asked.

Agent Hill made quick eye contact with Wilson, and nodded. Wilson got up, and unlocked my handcuffs, and saying, "Just don't take off again. It's pointless. I'm faster than you, and you know it."

I flexed my wrist, wishing I had my other hand to rub the soreness out. The handcuffs were a bit tight, although it was understandable. I was a huge flight risk, literally.

The rest of the helicopter ride was in dead silence, until I could feel us losing altitude. I stood up when Agent Hill stood up. I was swaying slightly, a bit nauseous. The tranquilizer had done its job, clearly. I held onto an overhead bar as the helicopter landed smoothly, and followed Agent Hill out the helicopter door, the strong winds procured by the helicopter's blades making me even more off balance. It was dusk when we stepped outside, the sun just setting beyond the hill. Wilson was keeping a close eye on me, clearly ready to jump in and stop me from taking flight. I wasn't going to, though. Agent Hill had piqued my interest.

We stepped inside, and went down a long corridor. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up; as I remembered all of the dark hallways in the Hydra base I had lived in. My hands were clenched, and I was getting more and more nervous every step I took. What if they had lied to me? What if they really were Hydra? Maybe that's why I had never heard of SHIELD. They didn't exist. It was all just an alias for Hydra.

As I planned my escape route with every step I took, we finally came into an open area, which relaxed me slightly. There was what looked like a large conference room table, and nearly all of the seats were filled. They were all preoccupied with something, either talking to each other, or on their phones. They didn't seem to notice when I walked in.

A dark skinned man with an eyepatch stood at the head of the table. He actually seemed to realize that they had more people than before. "Our last members are here. We can begin."

I looked around the table, seeing a huge band of misfits. There was a man with red skin, Tony Stark (I remembered the man on the street saying _'Fuck you, Ironman!',_ and I grinned), and a woman in a catsuit. Everyone else looked remotely normal.

"Oh my God, are you bleeding?" asked one man in glasses, looking wildly concerned.

At first, I was confused, but then I remembered phasing with my wings. I looked over my shoulder, and saw that the back of my white shirt was torn to shreds (my wings were not kind to clothes), and covered in drying blood. "Oh." I said, and flexed my shoulders. No new blood was added to my back. "Yeah, I think I'm fine."

The group looked slightly unnerved, but thought nothing else of it. Well, except for Tony Stark.

"Are you the reason the meeting's late? Because my time's money, and I've been here for twenty minutes," he said, ever the egotistical billionaire I had heard about.

Wilson took a seat, and said grumpily, "Sorry, she's a flight risk."

The man with the eyepatch at the front of the room cleared his throat. "Subject 092, are you going to take a seat?"

"Don't call me that," I said automatically, and my face flushed bright red. "I mean, sorry. J-just call me Nefta."

"Alright, _Nefta,_ are you going to sit down?"

I sat down hastily, so incredibly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I don't understand why I'm here."

"Neither do I," said Wilson. "Isn't one flying superhero enough? Are you trying to replace me?"

The man at the front of the room looked exasperated. Or maybe that was just his face. I wasn't sure. "Can we continue? Or should I wait?"

He was met by silence, a clear sign. "Good. You might be wondering why I called you here today. Since our battle against Ultron, Maximoff has been able to give us more information on Hydra than we had before. We've been able to slowly begin locating their bases. We took over one of them, and got into their systems. What we've found is worrying. More and more people are joining Hydra by the numbers. One of them has climbed immensely in rank. We don't have a name or a face, but from what we know, he's a mutant. We're trying to gain intel on all of the new members, so we at least know who we're dealing with. We thought Maximoff would be able to help us with locating the mutant base, but it appears that Baron Von Strucker kept his mutant projects separate from the rest of Hydra's. There's a couple of doctors that we know shared this huge laboratory, but we don't know where. We have a couple of names- De Avignon, Gorelli, Koss, Emery, Berkovitch- excuse me, Nefta, are you alright?"

My face felt cold, as I realized all the blood had drained from my face. I must have looked white as a ghost. My jaw was shaking, as I found difficulty forming words. "I-I'm n-n-not going b-back there."

" _Nefta,"_ Eyepatch emphasized, clearly finding my name stupid. I didn't care. Anything was better than 092. "From what we know, you're the only one who's escaped the facility. You're our best shot at finding it. This is a major key to taking down Hydra. If we stop their human tech at its' source, we weaken them exponentially."

"Do you know what it's like there?" I said angrily, rising from my chair, my fear turning to anger. "Can you even begin to comprehend?"

Tony interrupted, "Well, I hate to barge in, but he _clearly_ doesn't know what it's like there, that's what we're trying to figure out."

I ignored him. "I was stuck there for eighteen years. There's a lot of things a bored surgeon can do in eighteen years."

Agent Hill muttered something under her breath.

"What?" I asked, not willing to let it slide.

She looked like she wished she'd held her tongue. "It wasn't eighteen years. We did some blood testing with some of the blood you leave behind every time you phase. You're actually roughly twenty-two."

My throat felt thick, and it was difficult to swallow. I could feel the tears behind my eyes, but I held them back. "Great. Even worse. There's even more things a bored doctor can do in twenty-two years."

"If I'm correct, there are hundreds of other people in that facility," said one woman with long brown hair and eerie eyes. Her accent was difficult for me to place. "You could be saving so many people."

"I never heard other people there, or other doctors. I think it was only my brother and I, and Dr. Emery." The name felt bitter on my tongue. "When we escaped, too, I never heard other prisoners or doctors, just guards." I paused for a second, remembering the hallucination that I had in my last torture session. The hallucination. There must have been one other mutant there, but they could have just been there temporarily. I didn't know.

Eyepatch looked taken aback. "You have a brother?"

I nodded, "Yes, my twin brother, Azrael. At least, I think we're twins. Now I'm not sure. He was number 093," the number felt disgusting coming out of my mouth. "He was experimented on too. His was more of a mental ability than a physical one."

There was dead silence in the room, as everyone tried to look at the foreign woman on the low-down. It wasn't working. It was very obvious. She clearly had something to do with what I had just said.

One man broke the silence, who hadn't spoken yet. He was extremely muscular and handsome, with short-cropped blond hair, blue eyes, and a strongly defined jawline. "What did they do to you in the facility?"

I wanted to tell them. I wanted them to know _why_ I wouldn't go back to the facility. I wasn't a coward. I was justified. I tried to tell them, but it was difficult to speak. I sat back down in the chair, knowing that if I spoke while standing, it could end badly. My heart was heavy in my chest. I stuck my hand in-between my knees, and stared directly at the table as I spoke. I didn't look up, or make eye contact with anyone. "I'm not sure of dates or times. I could be off by several years, if I was as off on my age as you're saying I am. The earliest things I remember were surgeries. I don't know how old I was, or how I long Hydra had me. It could have been from when I was born, or from when I was a toddler. I just know that's a surgery is my earliest memory, and those are the only memories I had until I was about fifteen. The surgeries stopped when I stopped growing. I don't remember them well. I think I blocked them out. I know it wasn't the anesthesia, because they didn't have any. I was blacked out for most of the first fifteen-ish years of my life. After the surgery stopped, they worked on getting my physically stronger. Hydra soldiers are supposed to be resistant to torture. I wasn't good at resisting it. I think that's why they spent the next five or six years getting me better at it. I never really improved, though. You name it, they did it. The beat me, cut me, drowned me, shocked me, burned me. The worst were the drugs. They only really did it twice. I don't remember exactly why they did it. They were trying to replicate a serum of some kind, make me stronger." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the blonde man shift anxiously. "The first time, I didn't get any stronger. I just regenerated faster. I healed more quickly. That meant the torture sessions were moved closer together. The second time they used the drugs was closer to my escape. They injected it into my left arm. Look at how well that turned out." I shifted my left stump weakly. "Right before I left, they started working on emotional torture. They killed my brother in front of me. Or, at least, I thought they did. It must have been some kind of projection, a hallucination, because my brother was the one who got us to escape. That's all I remember, though. I could be missing a lot more. I could have blocked it out. I don't know anymore."

The entire room was quiet. The redheaded woman in the catsuit looked more understanding than sympathetic. The blond man who asked looked like he regretted it. I even swear I caught a glance of guilt. Even Stark was quiet, for probably the first time in his life. I remember hearing that he was captured at some point. Maybe he knew what it was like. The man with the red skin looked emotionless. Everyone else in the room looked sympathetic.

"So, yeah," I said, looking up at Eyepatch. "I don't want to go back. I don't want to fight Hydra any more. I've fought them for twenty-two years. I just want to live my life. Before six months ago, I had never seen sunlight. Now, I have unlimited freedom. I've never had that before. I don't want to have anything to do with Hydra ever again. I'm not going back. I want to learn how to read and write, get a genuine job, get a nice apartment, hell, maybe even marry someone and have a few kids. Going back there risks the only shot I've ever had at a normal life. I can't. I just _can't_." my voice broke at the last word, and I broke eye contact with him. My eyes fell back to the ground. I could feel tears welling in my eyes.

I heard Eyepatch speak, and I was surprised. "Nefta, if SHIELD can find you, so can Hydra." My heart stopped in my throat. "We've been tracking you since you came to New York, and I can guarantee that Hydra has been as well." I felt dizzy. "And if they've been tracking you, they've been tracking your brother as well. If you help us, we can give you a home where Hydra can't track you. We might even be able to get rid of them permanently. And we can reunite you with your brother. But all of this resides on your shoulders. You're the only person out there that knows where the base is, apart from your brother, and we can't find him. This is up to you."

I only stopped to think for a second. If this gave me a shot at that life I had dreamed up, without Hydra in it, I wanted that. I wanted that perfect life, one where I can not worry about them barging into my apartment. I wanted a life with my brother. We couldn't be together as long as Hydra was assembled. If all I had to do was relive those memories to get my brother back, and Hydra gone, I could do that. I could sacrifice that. Yeah, I completely contradicted everything I'd said in the last thirty minutes, but I wanted my brother. I wanted my brother more than I wanted a normal life. And if what they said was true, this was my only shot at finding him.

"Fine. I'm in."

 **Okay so that was okayish, I think. I mean, Nefta does kind of come off as a bit of a crybaby, but let's face it, who wouldn't? I mean, imagine being told "hey remember that place that made you want to kill yourself? We're going back, baby. Oh yeah, and it's all your responsibility." I'm trying to make Nefta as little of a Mary Sue as possible, and make her act like how we would act if put in that situation. I don't know about you guys, but I would probably cry 24/7 tbh. Anyway, yeah, you know the drill. Review, make me motivated, etc. etc.**

 **Love you guys! I'll post the super awesome chapter five when I'm done with chapter six.**

 **-ElleLupin**


	5. Spooky

**Okay it's so weird? I've been updating twice a day, and in the morning, this story doesn't go up on the Avengers main page, but when I update at night, it goes on the main page. IDK. I think that explains why I get like one review per chapter in the morning, and four at night. I might not update tomorrow morning, I'm going into SF to get my hair cut. My bangs are coming back. I guess you could say I'm getting banged.**

 **Okay sorry that was shitty. Enjoy.**

No matter how much I wished I did, I didn't get a cool costume like the Avengers did. I mean, I understand why, I'm not part of the team, I'm just a tour guide, but some minuscule part of me wanted a cape. And yeah, I know how impractical it is to wish for a cape when you have wings, but a girl can dream. I waited in the conference room as everyone else suited up, and got all of their weapons and shit. I didn't even have a knife. I wished I did, but I didn't.

Agent Hill seemed to notice me fidgeting again. "Nefta, come with me."

I got up from the seat, excited. She took me back down the hallway that we had come in, but this time I wasn't as afraid. Some part of me knew I was part of a good thing. I was going to reunite with Azrael. And damn, was it going to be badass.

Instead of going all the way down the hallway, outside, we took a sharp left, and ended up in some kind of circular room. There were outfits hanging around the room's perimeter. She signaled for me to wait at the door, as she patrolled the circumference, browsing the clothes. She was about three fourths of the way around the room, when she found what she was looking for. She pulled it out, and brought it back over to me. It was a pure white catsuit, with two slits in the back. "This is one of our agent's, who's out on a mission. The slits in the back are for her swords, but I think they'll work for your wings. The agent's very protective, so make sure you get it back to me in one piece."

I nodded, agreeing, and Agent Hill left me in the room to change. It wasn't a perfect fit, as I wasn't as muscular as the agent, but when I flexed my shoulders, feeling my wings ripple beneath my skin, I could tell that the slits would work. I mean, they didn't align perfectly with my scars, but it would work for this once.

After I changed, and met Agent Hill outside, she took me back outside, to where a plane of some kind was waiting. It set me off. I had only seen planes that would take off at airports; I had never seen a plane as small as this one. _Will this stay in the air?_ I wondered. I almost trusted my wings more.

I got onto the plane, Agent Hill staying behind. Everyone else was on the plane, strapped in. I was taken aback by everyone's extravagant costumes. I was a bit self conscious in my white catsuit, because it just emphasized how skinny I was. I was still working on gaining weight that I'd never had at the facility, but it's surprisingly difficult. I didn't know if it was because of my metabolic/regeneration rate or not, but it was tough.

The door to the plane shut behind me, and I jumped a little. Okay, not a little. I whipped around, my wings ready to burst from my skin. The sound of the door was surprisingly loud.

"You're just a little cat, aren't you?" laughed Stark.

I frowned, confused. "I think you're mistaken. I have bird wings, no cat characteristics."

He groaned, "We've got another Thor on our hands, guys."

"I'm sorry, I just don't understand," I admitted, "Is that a figure of speech? I'm still trying to catch up on everything I've missed."

The handsome blond man asked me, "What do you mean, you've missed?"

"I was in the middle of nowhere for twenty two years. I didn't learn any history, English, math, or science. I've been trying to catch up, but it's surprisingly difficult to when you can't read." I admitted.

"What's it like to be illiterate?" asked a guy with a bow.

I shrugged. "I don't know, it's the only thing I know. What's it like to be literate?"

Before the guy with the bow could answer, the redhead in the catsuit asked me, "Where should we start heading?"

"Oh, uh, head to Jackson, Wyoming, and I'll lead you from there." I said, and winced as the plane took off. I sat down hastily, to avoid being knocked over by the plane.

It was quiet for a while, as I looked around the plane at the group of people who were going to help me get Azrael back. If I didn't know any better, I wouldn't have much faith. They looked like a group of misfits. But apparently they took down this big robot guy, and that was good enough for me.

After about ten minutes of going at a nauseating speed, I broke the silence, "So, uh, I don't really know any of you. Can we go around and say our names? I'll start. My name is Nefta. Oh! And can we say what we do, as well? I fly."

Nobody looked like they wanted to start, so I gave the foreign girl to my left a look. She looked exasperated at me. "My name is Wanda Maximoff. People have also called me the Scarlet Witch. I can alter reality." Damn, my thing felt so much less cool.

"My name is Tony Stark, you all probably know me as Iron Man. If you'd like an autograph, please ask after we're done here."

"I'm Bruce Banner. I'm just here for the databases." Said a guy with glasses nervously. Some part of me felt like he was lying, but if everyone else trusted him, I did too.

The redhead in the catsuit simply said, "Natasha Romanoff, also known as Black Widow."

"Clint Barton, Hawkeye." Damn, each person was getting shorter and shorter with their responses.

"James Rhodes, War Machine."

The one familiar face said, "Sam Wilson, Falcon."

The handsome blond answered in full, "My name's Steve Rogers, but SHIELD calls me Captain America."

"My name is Vision," said the man with the red skin.

I nodded, "Okay, great, thanks. Should I call you guys by your first names, or act like I'm from an action movie, and only call you by your last names?"

Nobody answered, so I decided on first names. It made me feel like I could trust them more. We spent the next ten minutes or so in quiet discussion. I just listened to their discussions, trying to figure out the group dynamics. Tony would wander the cabin of the plane, clearly bored.

Natasha saved me.

"Nefta, we're over Jackson now. Where should we head?" she asked, as stone-like as always. Well, I shouldn't say always, because I've known her all of thirty minutes, but that was the impression I got so far. Maybe she was just having a bad day.

I got to my feet, and asked, "I'd do better outside of the plane. Do you mind if I get out?"

I caught Natasha giving Sam the side-eye, as though asking if it was really a good idea. He sighed, "I'll watch her."

"I don't need a babysitter, you know. I want my brother back, and if this is how we do it, I'm in. I'm not going to take off. Now, how do I open the door?"

"It's the button that says Hatch Unlock." She said, leaning against the frame of the cockpit, watching me.

God, it's like people don't understand. "I can't read," I said embarrassedly, for what felt like the millionth time, trying to figure which out of the three buttons it was.

The kind one, Steve, answered for me, "It's the red one."

"Thanks," I said, pressing the button, and feeling the quick suction of the air pressure difference.

"Wait! Nefta, if you're going out, take this," Natasha handed me something that looked like an ear bud. "It's a headset. It'll let us talk. We probably won't need it until we get to the Hydra facility, but take it anyway."

I tucked it into my right ear, and looked out the hatch's door. We were moving incredibly fast. I didn't know if I could fly that fast, but I would try.

I remembered how awful it felt to open my wings midair, so I rolled my shoulder blades, and felt my wings strain against my incisions, before they finally burst through, a small spray of blood accompanying them. Luckily, the blood didn't touch anyone. That would have been embarrassing. The wings slipped smoothly through the slits in the suit. For half of a second, I noticed that the white of my wings matched the white of the suit. Then, the blood from my back started seeping into the suit, staining it red. I hoped it would come out in the wash. "You'll follow me, right?" I asked Natasha, and she nodded. With that, I jumped out of the plane, feeling my wings immediately catch the wind. I soared to the front of the plane, my wings beating slowly, as I allowed the pure power of them to take me most of the way. I was gliding most of the time, just the occasional pump of them to keep me from plummeting.

I followed the freeway most of the way. I was glad I had looked out of the bus's window most of the time on my exit trip, because it made things a lot easier on my return trip. I would recognize weird looking trees, and know I was going the right way.

After a while, the trees got denser, and the freeway branched off into a desolate State Route. I flew closer to the ground there, not flying above the treeline, where I could easily be seen. My wings were slightly smaller than the two lane road, so it was a tight yet comfortable fit. The plane hovered above a good 100 feet above me. It was clearly going slower than it wanted to, but I wasn't a fast flyer, so they would have to deal with it. Humans aren't very aerodynamic. Every time I could hear a car coming, I would move back over into the woods. It made me vulnerable from above (and some part of me was worried I would get sucked into the plane's engines), and as soon as the car would pass, I would go back into the road. I kind of hoped that the Avengers were watching me. I felt badass. I don't know if I looked it, but I could pretend. I especially hoped the American one was watching. He was cute and kind. I didn't know much about human nature, but just those two characteristics made somebody good in my books.

After a while, I could see the town that I had stayed in for a month. Something was wrong. It was quiet.

Too quiet.

I folded in my wings, not retracting them, just pulling them up against my back. I plummeted towards the ground, releasing my wings and pulling up at the last second so that I had a running landing. I could hear the quiet humming of the plane behind me. I kept running through the town, hearing nothing but my panicked breathing. My heart was pounding in my ears. My wings were streaming behind me, dragging me down, so I folded them in, ignoring the burst of pain and the flow of blood.

I passed the barber where I got my hair cut.

 _"Turn around, darling! What do you think?"_

 _"Oh my God, my hair… It-it looks amazing, Julie. Thank you so much. I didn't even know I could look like this."_

 _"Like what?"_

 _"Normal."_

 _"Oh, honey, you are normal. It's just this town that's weird. It's a small town, we're all nearly insane. You're wonderfully normal. You look just like Zooey Deschanel!"_

 _If only she knew how far I was from normal._

 _I played along, though, pretending to be normal for just a little while. "Who's Zooey Deschanel?"_

The barber's shop's windows had exploded. Glass littered the streets. I could see blood on the windowsill. Some part of me felt like it was Julie's blood.

I could feel the blood flowing down my back from my incisions. It almost made me forget the tears streaming down my face. My breathing was erratic. Somebody was screaming, "No."

I realized it was me.

In the distance, I could hear the Avengers calling to me, and I distantly heard them running after me.

I passed the café where Father Tom and I would go out for coffee in the morning. He never taught me how to work the coffee machine in the church, because he never figured it out, either. It was where I told him I was leaving.

 _"My child, you look worried."_

 _"I am, Father Tom. I need to leave."_

 _"Leave? You're leaving our little town?"_

 _"I don't want to, believe me. I've never been happier than when I'm here. But I think I need to be somewhere else. Some part of me feels like I can't stay here."_

 _"Was it me? You don't have to stay with me, in the church. Anyone would be happy to host you in their homes. The community's grown rather fond of you."_

 _"Oh, no, Father Tom. It wasn't you. You've been the kindest person I've even met. I didn't realize how kind people could be until you taught me. Don't blame yourself, please. I just need to go. I need to find my brother, I need to be somewhere where I can be safe. I'm too close to the woods where I was hurt, Father."_

 _"You're not going back to that abusive family of yours, are you?"_

 _"No, of course not. You've taught me to be better than that."_

Of course, now I was heading back to the facility. I guess he didn't teach me better.

The café had been completely leveled. There wasn't a trace left. The metal tables and chairs outside had melted into the pavement, a pool of iron near to the splinters of the wooden shop.

I ran faster than I thought my feet could carry me. I knew what I was running to, but some part of me remained optimistic. The church would still be there. All of my happy memories would remain intact.

My feet pounded the dirt road leading to the church. I remembered the countless times that Father Tom and I had walked this road. I remembered all of the pointless conversations we'd had. And I remembered the last time I had seen him on this road, when he told me goodbye, and gave me the money from the parish. I remembered the last act of kindness towards me.

As I turned the bend, I was optimistic. I expected to see Father Tom crouched out front, caring to the flower bed, or instructing one of the town's teenagers on how to clean the stained glass windows.

And in that moment, I felt defeat.

The church was gone.

All that was left was a smoldering pile of wood, the glass scattered on the ground, as it appeared to have broken when the building collapsed.

This church was my first home.

And it was gone.

 **So yeah that was pretty chill af. Please please please review. I know it's stupid, and even I do this, but some people don't read stories based on how many reviews they get. Let's prove them wrong, right? Haha I'm the world's worst motivator. Anyway, thanks guys.**

 **-ElleLupin**


	6. Creepin' Around

**Sorry, guys! I'm only posting one chapter today. I spent all morning in San Francisco getting my hair cut. Also, Obama was in town? What the heck? A whole bunch of roads were blocked and I was really confused. Turns out it was the president. Anyway, my bangs look so good. It was kind of a bad morning though because I went to Starbucks to get coffee, and I also asked for one of those lemon loaves, EXCEPT THEY FORGOT TO GIVE IT TO ME AND I WAS TOO AWKWARD TO ASK AGAIN so I didn't get my lemon loaf :(**

 **Hopefully this chapter is better than my lemon loaf-less morning. Enjoy!**

I was on my knees, feeling the small rocks dig into my knees. I was crying, too. No matter how optimistic I wanted to be, I knew it was useless. Father Tom was the closest I'd had to a father.

"No," I sobbed, "No, no, he isn't dead. No, please. They can't be gone. They can't all be gone."

I heard the faint sound behind me of someone licking their lips, and inhaling before they spoke. I turned around, and watched Natasha, my eyes blurry. Everyone was there except for Bruce. I assumed he would be meeting us at the facility to get the files. "Nefta, we need to move," Natasha said, "Hydra's been here. We have to get to their base as soon as possible. Do you know the way from here?"

 _Hydra._ I had never felt so much hatred in my life. The only anger I'd ever had that compared was with Dr. Emery. And even then, I was so far gone, I didn't care about myself anymore. I didn't care that he was hurting me. But with this, my hatred increased tenfold. They had killed so many innocent men, women, and children. They had destroyed the people who taught me what kindness was.

And now I was going to fucking destroy them.

"We're going now. Don't go back for the jet. Follow me on foot."

I snapped my wings out, expecting to feel the signature pain, but I didn't. I was numb with anger. I was going to absolutely _murder_ every last member of Hydra. Make them feel the pain that they made _my_ town feel.

"Wait! Nefta, if we're going in, we can't go in with our regular names. We all told you our aliases, and you need to use them," said Clint. "We can't have Hydra know more about us than they already do."

I answered shortly, "Fine."

"She needs a name too," said Vision calmly. "Hydra already knows who she is, but if the media gets a hold of this, her cover will be blown. Director Fury promised her a normal life, and if everyone knows who Nefta is, she won't be able to have that."

Everyone was quiet for a moment, as I tapped my foot impatiently, flapping my wings. I knew I was kicking up dust and charcoal, but I had to keep moving. Adrenaline was pumping in me right now, and I had never felt so energized.

"Harpy," said Steve.

Rhodey (I was going to call him James, but everyone else called him Rhodey, so I went with it) snorted, "Isn't that a little rude? Calling her a harpy?"

"Wait, is that slang for something now? I was just thinking about the bird women from Greek Mythology." Steve quickly backtracked, "But if it's rude, then I don't want-"

"Fine," I interrupted him. "I'm Harpy. But let's move."

I pumped my wings harder, and took to the air, leading the way. Falcon, Iron Man, Vision, and War Machine followed me. I was moving faster than I had ever thought I would be able to, but adrenaline does amazing things to your muscles. The people on the ground were moving as fast as we were, which I wasn't surprised by. They were trained for this kind of thing.

After two minutes or so, I heard Iron Man's voice, "Are you sure we're heading the right way?"

I realized I was hearing him through the ear bud that Natasha had given me on the plane. He must have enabled them. My eyes scanned the ground, and I spotted the clearing where Azrael and I had rested on our escape. "We're going the right way. I recognize the clearing. We're halfway there."

"You ran all this way while injured?" asked Natasha from the ground, not even winded from her running. I guess that's what being an uber-fit assassin does to you.

I tucked in my wings, losing altitude, before opening them again and flying closer to the treeline. "Yeah, I'm following our path now."

I recognized the tree branches I had tripped over, the thorns that had ripped my feet to shreds. Every time I saw something that injured me, I remembered how Father Tom had healed me, and my anger came back.

Soon, I saw the familiar concrete prison on the horizon, and my fear nearly equaled my anger. I shoved it to the back of my mind. "This is it up ahead."

I could head Steve/Captain America's voice through the headset. "We need a plan. I say we partner up, one flier with one grounder. Ironman, you're with Black Widow. Falcon and Hawkeye. Vision, Scarlet Witch. War Machine, I want you meeting Bruce and getting all of the files out. Harpy, you're with me."

I started diving down, landing in the clearing steadily. The rest of the fliers landed with me, as we turned back to the forest, waiting for the runners. They joined us seconds later.

"Search the facility. If you find anything that's important, either take it back with you, or remember where it is. We can send in an extraction team as soon as we know it's clear. It you find anyone in there, either human or mutant, tranquilize them. Don't kill them, because they could have some important information. Bruce and the quinjet should be here fairly soon, they just left the town. Stay communicated. I don't want anyone's headsets off for a second. If you get so much of a bad feeling, get out. _If_ there are mutants here, we don't know what they're capable of." Captain America ordered. He wasn't Steve anymore, he was a different person. He was the leader of the Avengers now.

He turned to me as the rest of the group split up. Vision and Scarlet Witch went through the main door, the one Azrael and I had come out of six months ago, while the rest of the groups took off to take other entrances. "I know you don't know this place very well, but where should we start?" he asked.

"The top," I decided. "My cell had a small skylight. It worked for the first couple of years, but it got super clogged up after a while. If we can find it, I'll know where we are. It'll be hard to find, though, because it's so dirty."

He nodded, and started heading over to the drainpipes, which he climbed. I released my wings again, and took off to fly low over the roof. It was a flat roof, and it should have been easy to find the skylight, but there was a lot of roof to cover. I heard the quinjet land in the distance, and it somewhat relieved me that Bruce was here, getting out the files. It made us one step closer to beating the shit out of Hydra.

After five minutes, I heard from the others. "Guys, it looks like this building was attacked," said Hawkeye, his voice clear as day on the intercom.

"If it's two adjacent cells, don't worry about it," I said, "That's from Azrael and I."

"No, it's everywhere," confirmed Ironman. "And there's skeletons everywhere. People died here, and it looks like they were guards."

"I have some with doctor's coats on," said War Machine, "Banner and I got to the control room."

I heard a voice not over the intercom, "Harpy! Is this it?" Captain America asked.

With a quick flap of my wings, I landed next to him, seeing two adjacent grime-covered sunlights. "Yeah, it has to be."

Captain America stomped on the skylight, sending it flying into the room below. I peered inside. It was my old cell.

I suddenly felt bile rise in my throat, and I ducked away, vomiting onto the roof top. It burned my throat, and although since I hadn't eaten in a while, I started dry-heaving.

My partner crouched by me, "Hey! Are you okay? You don't have to go in, you know. You can stay guard out here for the team."

"No, I'm going in," I said, standing shakily, and wiping the vomit from my chin. "I need to check something."

I walked over to the kicked-in skylight, and pulling my wings back into my skin, I jumped down into the rubble. I rolled my ankle slightly, but since it was such a minor injury, my regeneration healed it in seconds, before Captain America jumped down, joining me.

I stared at my blasted-in cell door, remembering the last time I was forced out of the cell, and the one time I left willingly.

 _"092, you're up._ Now _, goddamn it! 092, are you fucking stupid?"_

 _"Come on, 092. We're getting out of here."_

I walked through the door, the Captain following me. I walked slowly, taking in the things I had never had the freedom to. I looked into Azrael's cell for the first time. His cell was the mirror opposite of mine. He had dedicated one wall completely to counting how many days we'd been there. The wall was about ten feet high, and eight feet wide. He had nearly run out of room towards the bottom. In the back of the cell, I saw a sharp rock, and a blood of long dried blood, that had now just stained the floor black. It must have been where he carved the symbols into your skin.

"I've searched my area. It's clear." Said the first team over the headset.

"Clear."

"Clear." Answered the third team.

"Wrapping up," said Rhodey.

Captain America said for us, "We're not done yet. I'm sending out our signal, come and meet us here."

On the other side of Azrael's cell, he had carved hundreds of miniscule alchemy sigils. On the wall opposite of the cell, he had carved his number over and over again. _093 093 093 093 093 093 093_ it said countless times. I guess my brother had carved for fun. I couldn't even remember what I had done for fun.

I looked back over at my cell. On my cell walls, there were hundreds of carvings as well. Mine were different, though.

 _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_

I turned my back, disgusted. How many times had I unconsciously carved that? It had just become a part of my cell, I barely even remembered it anymore. I came up with flashes of me carving into the wall, but if it took up as much of my time as it seemed I did, and I barely remembered it, I was nervous.

What else was I forgetting?

The Avengers had joined us, and were watching me.

"I have to check one last thing," I said, walking towards the end of the corridor. I stood in front of the torture chamber, a nauseating feeling in my stomach. I ducked to the side and retched again, unable to even look at the door.

Captain America appeared again beside my heaving form. "Do you want me to open the door?" he asked.

I nodded, looking back at the door. The rest of the team was silent, just observing Captain America and I. Bruce and War Machine had joined us.

Cap struggled to open the door, even with his huge muscles. The moment the seal on the door was broken, an overwhelming smell hit me.

It was like a wall of putrid odor of decay, like someone had dumped a jar of sweet perfume all over themselves. My stomach flipped, and I gagged again, but I had nothing left. I stepped inside, leading the way. The smell got stronger. One time at my job at a deli, one of the delivery people left their car parked outside for a couple of days. When the boss asked me to go into the car and get a cooler, I realized that the delivery person had forgotten a leg of ham in the car. It had been rotting in the car for four days. The smell coming from the torture chamber was like that, but one hundred times worse. It wasn't hard to find the source of the smell. In the middle of the room, there was a black heap of shriveled flesh.

"Oh, look it's my arm." I murmured.

It was hard to believe that the rotting flesh in the center of the room had been attached to me.

"If my arm's still there, the facility was attacked not long after Azrael and I left."

I walked towards the center of the room, crouching down to look at the arm. I remembered how it felt when it was chopped off. When the arm swelled, the skin cracked, the blood and pus seeped through…

I kicked the chains on the floor, and felt the same surge of anger.

"ARGH!" I screamed, grabbing the chain hanging from the ceiling, and ripping it off the ceiling. I had always known that the bolts were weak, but the anger I felt knowing that I had always been too weak to do anything about it was overwhelming. I wasn't a skinny, starving experiment anymore.

I was just pissed.

I took a deep breath, calming myself. "We can leave in a second," I said, looking throughout the room. I searched the room, high and low, trying to find what I was looking for. "I just need to find one thing."

"What is it?" asked Captain America.

I didn't answer, instead continuing to search the room. I spotted the knocked-over torture table that Dr. Emery was so fond of. I scurried over, and started searching through. The crowbar was there, a knife, a scalpel, a lighter, a butane torch, electric wires, rope, and towards the bottom, I found what I was looking for.

I held it up to the Avengers so that they could see. "Can SHIELD test this? See what's in it, test the side effects?"

"What is it?" asked the Captain.

"It's what caused this," I said, pointing at the shriveled black flesh on the ground. "it's the serum they used on my arm."

 **So hell yeah fam! Spooky amiright? Also I probably will only post one chapter tomorrow, because it's my mom's birthday. I'm going to go see Batman vs. Superman right now and tbh it's mostly for Wonder Woman. Please don't forget to review and turn on notifications! Because I keep uploading chapters, and they're going through, but the header thing says my story hasn't been updated in like 3 days? IDK what's up with that. Okay bye!**

 **-ElleLupin**


	7. Friendship is Pretty Radical

**Hey, guys! Sorry for the late(ish) update. I get off from spring break tomorrow. Urgh, back to math :( I'm going to probably go from posting once or twice a day to posting once or twice a week. I wish I could post more than that, but it's softball season, and I had practice until 6 every day. Games go even later. I promise to update, though.**

 **Also, I didn't get as many reviews on the past couple of chapters as I've been hoping too. I really love being involved with you guys. It motivates me, and it makes me a better writer. I know how thirsty I sound begging for reviews, but I really do want/need them**

 **Okay, sorry for the long A/N. Enjoy!**

The ride back to the SHIELD headquarters was mainly silent. I wanted to fly alongside the plane, but we were going way too fast, and I didn't know where the SHIELD headquarters were. I simply fiddled with the syringe. It was halfway compressed. Half of it was in the swollen black flesh back at the lab. The other half of it was here, with me. I was paranoid that I was going to trip and stick myself, so I was halfway tempted to ask someone else to carry it.

I needed SHIELD to test it. I wanted to see what was in it. It had been, possibly still was, in my bloodstream.

If the first serum had given me regeneration powers… What had this one done?

I think everyone on the plane could sense my nervousness. They kept throwing glances at the syringe.

"So, they tested that on you?" Tony asked.

Rhodey elbowed him, "Dude, that's not how you start conversations."

"I'm just asking! A guy isn't allowed to be curious every now and then?"

"No! Especially not when it's you!"

"What is that supposed to mean? I _created_ you. My curiosity is the reason you're so badass."

Rhodey looked taken aback, "Excuse me? I was this badass before I even met you!"

"Yeah, but you didn't have a cool suit."

I interrupted, "To answer your question, yes, Tony, they did use this on me. I want SHIELD to test it. I don't know what's in here. The last serum they tested on me gave me my regeneration abilities. I want to see if this has added anything to me without my knowledge."

"I could have done that, you know." Said Tony, "You _could_ just drop by Stark Industries, and be like 'Hey, Mr. Hottie, want to do some science shit?' and I would have said yes. _But_ if you're already going to SHIELD, I won't bother."

"Tony, are you trying to drop hints that you want to test it?" I asked amusedly.

"Yes!" he half-whined. "Good God, you're thick. How many hints do I have to drop?'

I laughed. _There_ was the childish billionaire that I'd heard of. "I don't know. I need to sit down and talk with that guy. What's his name? The eyepatch guy?"

"His name's Director Fury," said Natasha amusedly.

"I want to talk to him. I'm pissed off as hell at Hydra, and considering helping SHIELD out with shutting them down. That town we went to was the closest I'd had to a home, and Hydra destroyed it. All the friends I've ever had were there, and they're gone now. My brother and I split up because of Hydra. If they're gone, I get my revenge, and I get my brother. It's a win-win for me." I reasoned. "Plus, my job kind of sucks right now. I think it might be illegal. I mean, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, because you work for the government, but _damn_ is it sketchy. I'd rather have a more secure job, that I might be able to talk Director Fury into giving me."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "You do realize that what you're calling a secure job is probably one of the most unstable jobs out there? I mean, there's a constant risk of being killed, tortured, kidnapped."

"Oh. I guess I hadn't thought of that. Is it really that dangerous?"

"You'd literally be an agent for a government agency. How safe do you think it is? _Especially_ if you're going up against Hydra?"

"It's not like I have anything to lose." I argued back, "And I've fought Hydra for twenty-two years. It's all I've known."

"Yeah, and how well did that go?" Clint barked. "If you were really good at it, you'd have gotten out a lot earlier than twenty-two years."

Rage swelled in my chest. "Well, I know better now, don't I? Why are you so against me living my life?"

"If you can get out of SHIELD, you should. You should go and live a normal life." Suddenly, I felt bad for Clint, hearing the tones of regret in his voice. "All that talk you had earlier, about getting an apartment, getting a job, having kids? SHIELD will take that away from you."

"Well, I can't have it until Hydra is gone, either. And the only way I can do that is through SHIELD." I tried to reason with him. "I know you might regret it, but I don't have any other choice. I work at a shitty deli, I can barely pay rent, I'm not sure if I'll have enough money to eat next week. The only thing I'm good at is flying. At least I'll be good at what I do now. And Director Fury promised me that when we took down Hydra, I could have a normal life."

There was quiet for a bit. Clint was clearly frustrated at my lack of understanding. He didn't think that I was taking the commitment seriously enough. I thought he didn't realize how serious I was.

Like always, Tony started up the conversation again. "You know, you could _technically_ have all of that at Stark Industries as well. Just saying. Just, y'know, throwing it out there."

"Are you offering me a job?" I asked Tony, my eyebrows raised in disbelief.

He shrugged, "Yeah, you could call it that. You could work with us, the Avengers. You can live with us, too. You wouldn't have to worry about rent on your shitty apartment."

"I think I would be the world's worst assistant. I can't read or write. How do you think memos would go?"

"No, not at Stark Industries. As an Avenger. We always need more enhanced, especially if you're right about your hunch with the serum. Plus, for group photos, it would look really cool if you posed on one end, and Falcon on the other. It would be pretty symmetrical. Very aesthetically pleasing." You could practically see Tony picturing a group photo in his head. Something was off, though.

I frowned, "Tony, why are you doing this?"

"What? You just heard my reasoning." He looked at me like I was stupid. I mean, I kind of was, but he looked at me like I was _really_ stupid.

I rolled my eyes. "No, I heard all of that fake shit. I want to know your real reasoning. What's in it for you?"

"Yeah, yeah, alright, you caught me. Part of me is thinking about the group pictures. The other part wants to know what you're made of. This serum, it's unlike anything I've seen before. It's _orange,_ for fuck's sake. I want to know what it's done to you. Part of it's curiosity, the other part is greed. If I can alter this, make it usable, patent it, Stark Industries could make huge bank."

"Tony!" said Steve angrily.

I shrugged, "At least he's honest. I'll think about it, but I still think I should talk to Director Fury. You can test the serum; so long as if you sell it, I get half the money."

"25 percent," Tony back countered.

I shook my head. "Lowest I'm going is 40 percent."

"Deal." He said, and I nodded, handing him the syringe. He handled it gingerly. "Say, what did it feel like when you got stuck with this?"

I looked pointedly at my stump arm, at Tony, and back at my arm.

"Got it," he said, unable to be embarrassed.

I felt my ears pop as we dropped in altitude. I glanced out the dashboard of the quinjet, and saw the SHIELD base. I still didn't know where it was. Oh, well. I should probably figure that out.

I was towards the back of the quinjet, so nearly everyone had gotten off before I approached the plane's doorway.

"Nefta, wait," I heard a voice behind me, and turned around to see Steve. It was just us on the plane now. His hair was slightly squished into his forehead, flattened by his helmet. He looked adorable. What? No, I mean… He looked like a good friend. Totally. That's what I was thinking.

"Hey, what's up?" I said, wincing in horror as my voice cracked. "Sorry,"

A faint smile was on his face. _Damn he was hot._ Wait, no he wasn't. He wasn't. Bad Nefta. "You know, Tony's right."

"About what?" I asked the tall soldier. He was like a foot taller than me. My face was right in his pecs. His gorgeous pecs. No, Nefta. Stop thinking about that.

"You could have a spot in the Avengers, if you want. We have plenty of rooms. You'd be a valuable member, you know. You're motivated. You have a lot of room for improvement, too. Sam could help you learn, too." His voice was deep and calm, almost soothing. "And no matter how much I hate the idea of Stark selling suspicious serums, I could talk sense into him. If SHIELD had the serum, I don't know if I could say the same."

He was right. No matter how irresponsible Tony was- sorry, _is_ \- at least you can reason with him. He's a human, not a mega-corporation like SHIELD.

"I'd have to think about it," I admitted, "I don't know if I have it in me to be part of a team. That's the whole reason Azrael and I split up, you know. It's safer to be alone. You aren't constantly thinking about what the others are doing, or worrying about how they're doing."

He pointed out, "Yeah, but look, you're still worried about Azrael, even with you being split up. As part of a team, you'd have people constantly watching your back, making sure you're safe."

"I'd have to think about it," I repeated. "I like the offer, I just don't know if it's right for me."

He nodded, "I understand. I'll put in a good word to Fury. Even though it isn't my property, you can still live at the Avengers Tower, even if you choose working for SHIELD instead. I don't think Tony would mind. He's too nosy for his own good."

"Thank you," I said genuinely.

He nodded, and walked past me, clapping me on the shoulder. His hand hovered for a second, and my heart skipped a beat.

As he walked past me, I caught a whiff of his cologne. And _damn_ was it good.

I followed him out of the quinjet after about a minute, and walked back into the SHIELD headquarters, into the long hallway leading to the conference room. I felt like a completely different person than I had been when I walked out of the hallway. When I left, I was nervous, just committed to one mission. I just wanted to do the one mission, get it over with. Now, walking back in, I wanted to do as many missions as it would take to destroy Hydra.

When I stepped into the main room, nobody else was there. They were probably changing out of their uniforms. I looked down at mine. The back was stained with semi-dried blood, the front had vomit, and dirt and charcoal caked the knees, from when I had kneeled down in front of Father Tom's church. Or, what _used_ to be Father Tom's church.

Director Fury and Steve stepped into the main room, as Director Fury said, "Nefta, step into my office." Steve was exiting his office as I was entering.

I passed Steve, as he gave me a faint smile and a nod as he walked by. I remembered how kind to me he'd been during the mission. He made sure I was okay every time I wasn't.

I stepped into Director Fury's office, a large and not-so-humble oval room. It was like his version of the White House. I took a seat opposite Director Fury's desk. The chair was wildly uncomfortable, almost as uncomfortable as Director Fury's stare.

"Steve Rogers just informed me that he's interested in you joining the Avengers," he said with a raised eyebrow. "You want to tell me why that would be a good idea?"

For half of a second, I couldn't come up with a good reason. Steve's face flashed in front of my eyes for half of a second. I answered, "I worked well with the team today. I like them. I could see myself getting better with them, getting stronger. I think I can learn a lot from them."

He nodded, and looked at a file on his desk. "Well, the mission was successful. We got the Hydra files, and we have analysts going through them right now. The Captain told me that you were a major key in the mission, which I'm glad to hear."

"Yeah, and there's one other thing, too," I said, and Director Fury looked both surprised and impressed that I half-interrupted him. "When I left, I said this was the only mission I would do. When I was there, Hydra had completely ransacked a town that I knew and loved. I realized that as long as Hydra's out there, it's not just me that's in danger by them. It's everyone. And I can't live knowing that I've passed on the opportunity to help people. If we get rid of Hydra, I can get my brother back, I can live a normal life. I think the Avengers can help me with that."

He leaned back in his chair, his single eye looking into my soul. I felt some kind of weird kinship to him. We had both lost a vital part of our body.

"I get that you feel some kind of connection with the Avengers, but so does every kid in America. Why should I let you join them?"

"Because I'll work for you, too."

A quick exhale of breath escaped his nose, like he was laughing. "You'll what?"

"I know you want me on your team," _Good God, I hoped he did._ "I'm willing to compromise. I really like the Avengers. Their team dynamics are like nothing I've experienced before. But I know that the Avengers won't be involved in every aspect of taking down Hydra, and I want to be. I want to be there every step of the way."

He nodded. "You know that once you join SHIELD, there's no going back. It'll be harder. If we don't defeat Hydra, there will be a target on your back every time you leave the house."

"I know that. But if we defeat them, I won't. And the only way to get rid of them is if I join you."

"I'm not going to turn you down. SHIELD always needs more members, especially after the fall. I don't think you have what it takes to be a complete agent. You're not physically or emotionally stable enough to handle that, and quite frankly, I don't know if you ever will be." I was incredibly confused. Was he accepting me or turning me down? I couldn't tell. "However, you do have much more inside knowledge on Hydra than we do. That's why I'm going to hire you as a consultant. You won't be drafted for other missions. We'll only need you for our Hydra expeditions. When you're not on a Hydra mission, you should stay with Avengers. Rogers told me that they've taken a liking to you." I felt a blush creep up onto my face. "I'm going to talk to Stark. We can't have a consultant with one arm. I'll see if he can get you a working prosthetic."

"Thank you so much, sir." I said, still feeling the blush on my cheeks.

He looked back down at the papers on his desk. "I was also told you were given a field name, is that true?"

I nodded, "Harpy, after the flying women from Greek Mythology." I remembered that Steve had given me the nickname. My heart fluttered again. God, this was insane. I'd never felt this way about somebody before. Why was I so clammy and nervous every time somebody talked about him? Maybe it was because I was grateful for his kindness. He'd really been the one to accept me into the team with open arms. Maybe this was what it felt like to be friends with someone.

Director Fury wrote something on the files on his desk. I wished I could read, especially read upside down. He looked back up at me. "I'll get Stark to work on the prosthetic. Knowing him, he probably won't listen to me, or even open my memo, so you'll have to bug him about it. We need to work on your flying and physical strength, as well. I'll get Wilson on the flying, and Rogers can work with you in the gym. If you're becoming an Avenger, I'm going to assume you'll be staying at Avengers Tower. I'll be in touch with you about the next Hydra mission."

"Thank you so much, sir. You really won't regret this," I promise him.

"I sure hope not," he muttered, as I stood up to leave. As I faced the lobby, I could see Steve waiting. "Make sure that you wash that uniform before you give it back to Hill. She's going to be pissed. Speaking of uniforms, we'll get one set up you. I'll have an agent bring it over to Avengers Tower."

I nodded, opening the door and stepping outside. I was about to close the door when I heard-

"Nefta?"

I peeked my head back into Director Fury's office.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" he asked, his one eye boring into my skull.

My mind flashed to the serum, and how I had brought it back to SHIELD headquarters, and given it to Tony. I remembered what Steve had said earlier, too.

 _No matter how much I kind of hate the idea of Stark selling suspicious serums, I could talk sense into him. If SHIELD had the serum, I don't know if I could say the same._

"No, sir," I lied, "Nothing else."

 **TFW Nefta doesn't know what love is so she's like "oh haha this is what friendship is like!" me too Nefta, me too. This might be the last update for a while depending on how softball goes. I promise to update either once or twice this week, though.**

 **Please leave a review. Even if you just say something like 'ayy lmao' I'm still like 'Aww, radical! This person cares enough to leave a review!'**

 **Anyway, yeah. Do it ;) Much love!**

 **-ElleLupin**


	8. Welcome to tha Crib

**Holy shit guys, I am so sorry. It's been over a week. I completely forgot that I had an orchestra trip to LA this past week, from Thursday to Sunday. Otherwise I would have uploaded. I'm sorry for not saying something. Now that I'm talking about it, though, I should mention that I'm going to be gone this Friday to Sunday, too. I'm doing a marathon, lol. Super sorry about the lack of a heads-up.**

 **Anyway, your reviews were super nice, I really appreciated it. I hope you'll forgive me for my lack of an update, and keep up the nice reviews, lol. Enjoy!**

"Hey, how did it go?" Steve asked me, leaning against the conference room table.

I smiled, feeling the corners my eyes crinkle. "Actually, not that bad. SHIELD is signing me on as a consultant, not an agent, and Director Fury said I can be a part of the Avengers."

His smiled matched mine. "I'm glad you decided to join us. I was a bit worried we had missed out on a possible member for a minute."

"Well, you can't get rid of me that easily. I'm a bit clingy, after all. I _am_ a Harpy,"

"What does that mean?" he insisted. "I promise I didn't mean anything bad! I was thinking about Greek mythology, y'know?"

I leaned against the table next to him. "I heard about it in an episode of Friends. It's slang for a clingy and gross woman. And don't worry about it, I'm sure you didn't know. I barely know enough pop culture as it is, I'm just glad I knew the one you brought up in front of everyone."

"Do you know how long it's been since I've found someone who doesn't know pop culture?" he asked, glancing over at me. It took everything I had not to look back.

"I don't know much of anything. Father Tom, the man who took care of me after I escaped, tried to teach me a little history, but he didn't remember much. I'm just barely catching up on modern day stuff. I haven't even begun going back in time yet. At least you know history from your time and earlier."

"I've got the foundation," he said, "And you've got the structure."

"Well, every structure needs a foundation," I reminded him.

"I could teach you," he offered. "It's not that bad. It's a lot of stuff about the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and World War One. I could try to teach you about World War Two, but it's harder to teach you about something you lived through."

I raised my eyebrow, "The Civil War? That sounds important. Maybe you could be my makeshift professor. You could title your lessons like a college course. Call it- Captain America: Civil War."

He shook his head, a smile creeping up on his features. "That sounds a bit dramatic."

"Aren't wars supposed to be dramatic?" I leaned away from the table, and looked down at my outfit, "I'm going to change, I look disgusting."

He looked like he was going to argue, but bit his tongue. "Do you want me to wait for you?" he asked, crossing his arms.

I paused, considering what my next step was. I had to go back to my apartment, get my stuff, and show up at Tony's doorstep yelling _surprise!_ "Yeah, if you don't mind. I don't know how to get back to New York, and where the Avengers Tower is."

"Okay, I'll be waiting here, ma'am." he promised.

"Thanks," I said with another faint smile. _He had called me ma'am_. I hadn't smiled this much in my whole lifetime. Something about his old-fashioned manners brought a grin to my face. "Be right back,"

I went into the locker room that Hill had left me at before. It was hard to believe that it was earlier today. I actually went inside this time, and noticed a small bathroom in the corner of the room. I stripped off the suit, and stepped inside the shower. It took me several tries to turn it on, and several bouts of cold water, but after a while, it was the right temperature. I watched the water roll off me, the black of dirt and the red of blood pool together. I didn't use shampoo or conditioner, because I was thinking about Steve waiting for me, and was in and out within five minutes. I changed into the same clothes I had come in, which were folded where I had left them on a bench. The leggings were fine, but there was still blood on the back of the shirt from when I had run away from Sam. I couldn't find my socks, so I was stuck with shoes that dug into the back of my ankles. I squeezed the excess water from my hair, and turned the shower back on, running the white catsuit Hill had lent me under the water. Eventually, I had washed it all off, but the white fabric remained tinted red and brown. I hung it over the shower rod to dry.

I looked in the mirror that was in the bathroom, and hardly recognized myself. Sometimes I would look into the mirror, and expect to see the old me staring back. It never was. I was no longer skinny enough to see every one of my ribs. You couldn't see the faint outline of my organs against my thin layer of skin. I looked like a new person. I had gained weight. I was still skinny, as my bones had grown to be used to the lack of weight, but I was no longer emaciated. My cheekbones weren't sunken in. You couldn't see the individual tendons in my hands anymore. My hair was no longer thin and lifeless, or falling out in clumps. It was still damp from the shower, and my bangs were plastered to my forehead, but it was gaining its' usual frizz, and slightly out of control quality. My eyes weren't dead. They were happy, bright brown eyes. My skin was no longer an eerie, sunless white. I had discovered my natural skin tone, a somewhat dark brown color.

I left the changing room, and walked back to Steve. "Sorry that took so long," I apologized.

He noticed my bloodstained shirt, and his eyebrows shot upwards for a second. He shrugged off his jacket, and handed it to me, "Here. People in New York will stare at you funny if you go out with blood on you."

"Thanks," I took the jacket from him, and tried it on. It completely dwarfed me. My hands didn't even come out of the sleeves, and the shoulders of the jacket went down to my elbows. It was practically a dress. "Would you mind taking me back to my apartment first? The only thing I really need from there are my clothes, and then we can go to Tony's."

"Sure," he agreed. "Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?"

"Ridden a what?"

* * *

I had the ride of my life back to New York. It turned out that the SHIELD base wasn't far outside of the city, maybe fifteen minutes without traffic. There wasn't any traffic when you had a motorcycle, I learned. The bike was incredible. Steve pulled it over in front of my apartment, where I instructed him to.

I stood up, handing him back the helmet. A giant grin was plastered to my face. I rolled up the enormous sleeves of the jacket. "That was amazing! It was like flying! Only, y'know, on the ground."

"That's what flying's like?" he said, sounding impressed.

"Yeah," I said dreamily. "The wind through your hair, the sting of cold air, the absolute _freedom._ It's amazing." I looked up at my apartment building, "Well, I should go up and pack. Do you want to come?"

He nodded, getting off of his motorcycle. He looked around at the barred windows, the assorted homeless on the street, the trash littering the ground. "This doesn't seem like a very safe part of town," he noted.

"It isn't, but it's all I can afford." I said with a shrug. "I'll bet Avengers Tower is all posh."

"A little, but that's Tony's taste," Steve admitted.

I laughed, deciding not to respond. I walked up to my apartment complex's door ready to unlock it, when it opened. I squeaked, jumping backwards into Steve. His hands automatically went up to catch me, his huge hands wrapping around my waist.

I froze.

Steve froze.

Jerry, my landlord, froze.

Steve slowly let me go, and I turned around, my face bright red. "Thanks, Steve."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to touch you like that, Nefta. Oh my Lord, I really am so sorry-"

"Don't worry, Steve, it's fine." I insisted. "Really, thanks. I could have fallen on to the concrete."

Jerry, my landlord, closed the door with a soft _click_. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Oh! Sorry, Jerry. No, it's fine. While you're here, I should let you know that I'm moving out. My friend Steve, here, invited me to live with him and his friends." I explained, pulling the key out of the pocket in my leggings. Gotta love Lulu's. Even though they were expensive as hell, and I kind of ate trash for a week, I wanted to see what the rage was all about. I gave Jerry the key. "I left my room unlocked when I left, so you can just take the room when I'm done in ten minutes."

He looked at the key carelessly, and tucked it into his back pocket. "If you leave any food in the fridge, don't come crying to me. It'll be mine in about fifteen minutes."

I nodded, "Got it. Thanks so much, Jerry."

He grunted, and pushed past us on his way out to town.

I looked at Steve, a confused look on my face. He shrugged, and held the door open for me.

I was on the top floor, which was kind of killing my calves. Steve hardly seemed to notice. I opened my door, and immediately realized how incredibly dirty it was.

"Sorry about this," I said, my face flushed. I noticed the TV was still on to Spongebob, which had been playing when Agent Hill had interrupted me.

"Why does that guy look familiar?" Steve asked, pointing to the paused frame of the yellow sponge.

I laughed nervously, "That's Spongebob. It's a kid's cartoon, but it has a lot of modern day humor that I'm using to help me catch up."

Steve pulled out a small notebook from his back pocket. A pencil was tucked into the spiral. "Spongebob, right? How do you spell that?"

"I don't know," I answered.

His head whipped up to look at me. "Oh, god, Nefta, I'm so sorry. I keep forgetting-"

"Steve," I interrupted him for the umpteenth time. "Seriously, don't worry about it. I'm used to it. I'll get around to learning how to read one day."

He nodded, still clearly embarrassed.

"I'm going to get my clothes. Why don't you stay here? Make yourself at home." I offered, before disappearing into my bedroom. Most of my clothes were clean, and already folded, so I just tucked them into one of the small boxes that Father Tom had given me when I left the town.

God, Father Tom. I missed him so much.

 _No, Nefta,_ I told myself. _Now is not the time for a mental breakdown. Wait until tonight._

I folded my dirty clothes, and put them into the box as well. I folded the cover of the box, and walked outside to where Steve was waiting.

"Nefta, what happened here?" he asked, pointing to the broken window.

Oh, yeah.

"When Agent Hill and Sam showed up to bring me to the meeting, I thought they were Hydra," I said sheepishly. "So, I, uh…"

"Broke a window to get away." Steve finished for me. "Did they not make it clear that they were from SHIELD?"

I started heading out the door, wanting to get away from the broken glass. I tried to remember. "I probably just didn't listen." I answered truthfully.

He laughed, and followed me downstairs to where his motorcycle was. We rode to Avengers Tower, which was easy to spot in the skyline as the tower with the glowing A. Turned out it was further from my apartment than I'd thought. The size of it just made it seem closer.

We rode into the garage, and he parked. We were mostly quiet as we walked through the garage. I was in awe. I had never been in an underground building before.

We stepped into the elevator, something I wished my apartment building had had, and Steve pressed the button for the first floor.

"Pepper, Tony's girlfriend, is probably going to want to meet you." He explained.

"You're right about that," said a disembodied voice.

I jumped. I had been doing that a lot recently. "What was that?" I asked in a panicked voice.

"Oh! Sorry. That's FRIDAY, Tony's new computer. After Jarvis kind of died and became Vision, Tony created a new AI. I think that's the word. She's very nice, I promise. Ask her any question, and she'll know the answer." Steve explained.

The voice responded, "Thank you, Mr. Rogers, you're very kind."

The elevator doors opened, and a redhead was waiting by the entrance.

"FRIDAY told me you were coming," she said. "Did Tony invite another person to stay with us?" she asked Steve.

"Pepper, this is Nefta, the new Avenger. Nefta, this is Pepper, Tony's girlfriend," Steve introduced us.

She held out a hand for me to shake, and I took it. "Well, at least you're a girl. If Tony brought one more guy into this building, I would have died of a testosterone overdose. He never even told me you were coming. He's a bit of an idiot like that, I'm sure you've noticed."

"I'm so sorry, I can leave if you want." I offered.

She shook her head, "No, of course not! What kind of host would I be if I let you walk away? C'mon, I'll give you the tour, and we can chew out Tony together."

Steve stepped forward for a second, ready to come with us.

"Un-uh, Steve," said Pepper. "I need to get to know our new roommate. You can have her later."

 _Bye,_ I mouthed to Steve.

 _Bye,_ he mouthed back, his beautiful eyes catching the light.

I smiled. Again.

 **They're kind of my OTP? Anyway, who liked that Civil War reference? I kind of tried too hard tbh but I love writing it. I'm also thinking about changing the name of this story to Foundations, or something. I feel like Angel of Death is too spooky, and it doesn't really fit the story.**

 **Let me know what you think of the possible name change in your review!**

 **And I know I never really described Nefta until now (whoops), but she doesn't look like the cover of this story. Nefta is mixed race btw. She's mostly African American. Sorry I never described her. I know that might mess with your mental image of her, but I think we'll live.**

 **ALSO I'M GETTING MY LICENSE ON WEDNESDAY, 4/20 BLAZE IT!**

 **TBH Jerry is my hero. Team Cap or Team Ironman? Nah bruh, team Jerry.**

 **SPEAKING of teams, one of my friends already saw Civil War and urghhhh I am so anxious. Some part of me thinks that Cap dies. If he does, we'll just pretend he didn't and continue with this story. Sorry for the long and off topic author's note. Again, I probably won't update because of my marathon.**

 **Much love! Remember to review!**

 **Love,**

 **ElleLupin**


	9. UFC Verbal Championships

**My mom is yelling at me right now as I publish this RIP. I am so done. Thanks for sticking in there, though, guys. Sorry I haven't updated in forever. I was at the Big Sur International Marathon this weekend. If you haven't done so already, make sure you put it on your bucket list. It's 100% the most beautiful thing you'll ever see.**

I was sitting on the bed in my room when I heard a knock at the door. It was hard to believe it was _my_ room. It was huge. There was a King sized bed, something I didn't even know had existed. I had a bathroom of my own, with a bathtub, not a tiny, cramped shower. It was incredible.

I got up off of my bed (it was still hard to believe), and opened the door. Steve was standing there.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I replied, leaning against the doorframe.

He looked past me into my room, which was half unpacked. I had put all of my clean clothes into my dresser, and set aside my dirty clothes to wash later. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, I was just finishing unpacking. What's up?"

"I got a message from Director Fury," he said, "He asked Sam, Natasha, and I to help train you for the Hydra missions you agreed to. You didn't tell me you agreed to do Hydra missions. I thought you were just a consultant."

"Oh, I thought I did," I said, nervous for his reaction. I remembered how Hawkeye had reacted when I told him that I was considering joining Hydra. For some reason, it would feel so much worse if Steve disapproved. "I'm only there for Hydra, though. I'm not going on any other missions."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the door frame. "So, you're only there for the most dangerous missions?"

"Steve, I know what I'm doing," I insisted, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. "You don't have to tell me that it's dangerous. I know it's dangerous. It's not going to change my mind."

"Nefta, I'm just trying to look out for you," he said seriously.

"You don't have to look after me. I've looked after myself for 22 years." I snapped, and slammed the door in his face.

I instantly regretted it.

I could almost see the look on his face.

We'd barely known each other a day, and I could still imagine the way his brows would furrow, the hurt look in his bright eyes, way his nose would crinkle in confusion. I already felt like I'd known him forever.

Maybe this was what it was like to be friends with someone.

And maybe I had just blown it.

"I'm still going to listen to Director Fury," he said through the door, his voice slightly muffled. "I'll meet you in the gym at eight, okay? Eat something small beforehand."

I didn't respond. The words were caught in my throat. I wanted to apologize, but some part of me was still extraordinarily mad. I wasn't some baby that needed to be cared for. I knew what was at risk, and the only way to get what I want is to go through those risks.

"See you then, Nefta," he said, and I heard the faint _clunk_ of his boots as he walked away. His shoes were heavy, but he walked with the kind of grace that dancers did.

I flopped backwards onto my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. I was pissed at myself for how I treated him, but I was also somewhat pissed at how incapable everyone seemed to think I was. I was skinny and small, but I wasn't some average human. I was a mutant, altered by years of surgeries, two serums, and years of physical abuse. I watched my brother's brains splatter the wall in front of me. I wasn't some innocent little girl. I was four years older than I thought I was. I was an adult. I wasn't a child. I'd never ever had a childhood. I didn't have parents.

Except for Father Tom.

I felt my throat tighten, and my stomach drop. I blinked, feeling tears form in my eyes, and I took in a ragged, shaky breath.

I got up from the bed, some weird part of me feeling like FRIDAY was watching me. And if FRIDAY was watching, Tony could be too. I didn't want him to see me. I knew I wasn't weak, and I didn't want him to think I was.

The shower was warm and loud, loud enough to drown out my heartbroken sobs. And no matter how much of a pervert everyone insisted Tony was, I trusted he wouldn't look at me in the shower. I cried for Father Tom, and all of the memories we'd had together. For the first friend I'd had, the man who acted like my father, who taught me what it meant to _love._ He'd been the first person to ever show me kindness, and now he was gone.

I cried for the people of the clergy, who had raised enough money for me to go out to New York, and follow my heart.

I cried for the friends I'd made there, who would smile at me every time I ordered a coffee, who would wave at me as I walked down the sidewalk. I cried as I thought of all the people who asked, _"Hey, aren't you the girl that Father Tom took in?"_

But mostly, I cried because I hadn't been there to save them.

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, swaddled in the bed sheets, my eyes were dry and crusty. I had been crying until I fell asleep. It felt a little better, but not much. I still missed everyone. I still felt like a piece of my heart was missing without Father Tom there.

I got out of bed, and changed into a new outfit that I had brought with me. There were crease marks from where they had been folded, but I didn't mind. I didn't have an iron, either. I wore dark gray leggings, a black tank top, and black off-brand tennis shoes. They were my workout clothes. I could feel the large tears in the back of the shirt from my wings, but I didn't mind. I didn't know what Steve was going to make me do in the gym this morning, and the fewer clothes I had to ruin, the better.

"FRIDAY, what time is it?" I asked the empty room, hoping I didn't look completely ridiculous talking to thin air.

Nobody answered for a second, and I thought that I had just made a compete fool of myself. "It's 6:02," Miss Nefta." Said a voice from nowhere.

"Miss Nefta," I murmured to myself, remembering when Steve had called me ma'am.

"I apologize. I would refer to you by your last name, but according to my databases, you don't have one," FRIDAY interrupted my thoughts.

I shook my head, and then wondered if FRIDAY could register that. "Oh, no. It's okay, FRIDAY. Just calling me Nefta is fine. You don't have to worry about all of the _miss_ stuff."

"Very well, Nefta," she responded. She? I mean, it was a computer. Was I allowed to call it a female?

I sat down on the bed, unsure of what to do. I rolled my shoulders back, feeling my wings ripple under my skin, and the tears in the shirt pull against my skin. I always did it when I was nervous. It seemed to calm me down, for some reason. It just let me know that I could escape, if I ever needed to. It was only six, and my meeting with Steve was at eight.

"FRIDAY, is anyone awake right now?" I asked.

"Master Stark is in his laboratory right now. He is working on a project."

I stood up from my bed. I could thank him for taking me in (if he even knew I was here. Was he aware?), and ask him if he'd made any progress on the serum I'd given him. I was curious and terrified to know if it'd had some other effect on me that I had no idea about. "What floor is that?"

She answered, "The top ten floors are dedicated to research and development. Master Stark is on the top floor."

"Thank you," I said, stepping out of my room into the long hallway. There were several rooms, and I knew that a couple were vacant. I didn't know if they were for team members who had decided not to live at Avengers Tower, like Thor, and occasionally Clint and Natasha, or if Tony was anticipating adding more people to the team.

The elevator made absolutely no noise as it cruised up to the top floor. It frightened me at first, because all of the other elevators I'd been in had made noise before. I guess Tony was just _that_ advanced.

Speaking of Tony, when I reached his lab, the elevator doors opening silently, I saw him. He was hunched over his desk, peering into a microscope, looking at a small dish. I noticed on a wall too his right, there were several cages filled with mice. They were scrambling around, the wheels rolling, the water dispenser clicking.

"Tony," I said, my voice breaking the ambient noise.

He jumped slightly, nearly taking his eye out on the microscope. "Birdman! How're you doing? Pepper told me you came to stay. She seems to have taken a liking to you. Probably because you're a girl. She has a thing for girl Avengers. You should see her, Nat, and Wanda. They're like the Powerpuff Girls."

"Thanks so much for taking me it," I told him, taking a seat at one of the spin-y chairs across from the table from him. "My apartment kind of sucked."

He nodded, "Steve told me you were watching Spongebob. How heartbreaking is that? I'm so glad you're here. Now you can watch quality television, like Family Guy."

"He told you I was watching Spongebob?" I said with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, not exactly. He tried, though. He said you were watching SpongeRobert. He tried. He sure as hell didn't succeed, but he put a little effort into it."

I smiled, and rocked back and forth in the chair. Of course Steve got the name wrong.

I needed to apologize to him later. I had overreacted. Some part of me was worried he wouldn't forgive me, but another part told me he would. I was torn.

"What progress have you made with the serum I gave you?" I asked, trying to get my mind off of the guilt I felt from yelling at Steve.

"I'm glad you asked. I have a couple theories to test," he said, getting up from his desk, and nearly strutting over to the shelf by the mice cages. I could hear the gentle clanging of glass as he sorted through the flasks.

I continued rocking back and forth in the chair, ignoring the faint nausea I got. "Like what?"

" _Think fast!"_ Tony cried, turning back towards me, and whipping a glass bottle towards my face.

"Ahh!" I screamed, hitting the floor with a heavy _thud._ The glass whizzed over my head, as my heart pounded in my ears. It shattered on the elevator doors behind me.

Tony groaned, "Damn it, Nefta! You were supposed to punch it, or something."

" _Punch glass?"_ I half-screeched, scrambling to my feet.

He gave a whole new meaning to the phrase 'mad scientist'.

He shrugged. "I mean, yeah. I wanted to test a theory."

"What theory?" I said, my heart still pounding. My eyes watched his hands, making sure he wasn't going to throw another glass at me.

"Remember in the Hydra base, you ripped those bolts off from the wall? You shouldn't have been able to do that. Those were firmly bolted into the cement, and you tore them down like tissue paper. I haven't confirmed it yet, and I probably won't unless you cooperate," he gave me a dirty look, like I had ruined his experiment by not punching the glass. "But I think you have some kind of heightened strength. Rogers has it too, and if they were trying to replicate his serum, it would make sense that they achieved that."

I shook my head, "I don't think so. Those bolts were weak, and I was filled with adrenaline. I don't know if you should keep barking up that tree. And please don't throw anything else at me to test a theory. I'll cooperate, you know. Tell me to punch something, and I will, but I'm not going to punch glass. That's ridiculous."

"Fine," Tony said in a disappointed voice. "I've tried injecting the mice with a little of the serum. We can see what kind of effect it has on them after it's settled. I still think I'm right, though. I always am."

"I'm working out with Steve this morning," I told him, "I guess we can try your theory out. You know, without any glass breaking. But I don't think you're on the right path. When Sam took me into the base, he had a firm grip on me, and I couldn't break loose. If I had super strength or whatever, shouldn't I have been able to?"

He didn't answer my question. "So, you and _Steve,_ huh? On a first name basis and everything?" Tony purred, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I call you by your first name, too, Tony, just like do with anyone else." I said, but my face turned bright red at the thought of what he was implying.

He leaned back against the table full of glass instruments. "Yeah, right, Tomato. So, you're working out with him, huh? Getting all _hot_ and _sweaty_ together? It's great practice for the future."

I didn't answer. My bright tomato face did the answering for me.

"What time are you meeting him?" he asked, pushing away from the table, and going back to his microscope.

"Eight in the gym. Where's the gym?"

"43rd floor. We have about an hour, that's enough to do what I want to do. Take a seat," he told me, and I sat down on one of the lab stools, still shaking a little from my near-glass encounter.

He approached my left arm, or lack thereof. He pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose, and peered at the stump. He tilted his head, reminding me remarkably of an owl. An annoying, cocky owl, but still an owl.

"FRIDAY, shoot me some measurements." He said, and I almost responded, but the AI did instead. It would take a while for me to get used to.

"Circumference of 10.724 inches, 3.981 inches off from the joint."

He nodded, and stepped back from my arm. "Keep those measurements, Friday," he said.

I remembered what Fury had said, "You opened Director Fury's memo about getting me a prosthetic?" I asked. "he said you never open them."

"Oh, no. I open them, I just don't reply to them, or listen to them. But Steve reminded me last night, so I had to remember to get your measurements before you do anything. I'm not sure how long this will take. I'm thinking of giving you an arm like the one Rhodey and I have on our suits, but that will take a little while longer, because I'll have to build a miniature arc reactor to give you the blasts that we have." I wasn't sure if he was speaking to me, or just thinking out loud. It was hard for me to tell.

"Thank you so much, Tony," I said a bit loudly, just in case he was off in his own little world.

He didn't even look up as he searched around his desk, looking for the pieces he needed. "Huh? Oh yeah, sure thing kiddo. Just know that if you break it, I'll murder you."

I laughed, "Okay, sure. Do you mind if I stay here until it's time for Steve and I?"

"Yeah, you can wait for your date here," he said absent-mindedly.

"It's not a date," I reminded him. "It's a mandatory workout that Director Fury is making me go to."

Tony shrugged. "It's a date, Birdman."

 **Update- mom is still yelling at me from downstairs. I haven't said a word back, and she's telling me to calm the fuck down.? Love life.**

 **Anyway, you know the drill. Favorite, follow, review, etc.**

 **-ElleLupin**


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